
Glass, 



Book. 



LIFE AN© LITERARY REMAINS 



BARBARA HOFLAND 




' t'l 



.'ED BY E.FINDEN. 






£ 



* sto-^.-j ^-i^-t_^ 



^-ef-t^n 



LIFE AND LITERARY REMAINS 



BARBARA HOFLAND, 



AUTHOR OF 

the son of a genius; tales of the manor; tales of the 
priory; patience; integrity; decision; 

ETC. ETC. 



BY 

THOMAS RAMSAY, 

AUTHOR OF "A GLANCE OF BELGIUM AND THE RHINE" 



" Deeds which should not p?ss away, 
And names that must not wither." — Byron. 




LONDON: 
W. J. CLEAVER, 46 PICCADILLY. 



M.DCCC.XLIX. 



Will 



LONDON : 
RICHARDS, 100, ST. MARTINS LANK. 



DEDICATION 

TO 

THE LADY MILDRED HOPE. 



Madam, 

I am kindly permitted to dedicate this volume 
to you ; and, believe me, I do so with the liveliest 
satisfaction, being well assured of your Ladyship's 
warm appreciation of the virtues and talents of 
her whose Memoirs it contains, and whose last work 
for the instruction and amusement of the young was 
feelingly inscribed to your youthful daughter. This 
assurance is strengthened, too, by the pleasing recol- 
lection, that Mr. Hope has testified his respect for the 
memory of our authoress, in having been the largest 
subscriber to her monument at Richmond. The friends 
of Mrs. Holland may indeed feel proud to think, that 
the same munificent hand which has so piously restored 



VI DEDICATION. 

S. Augustine's at Canterbury, was the readiest and 
the most liberal in rearing that memorial at her parish 
church. 

It has been truly observed, that we look with plea- 
sure on those things which are congenial and kindred 
with our own conceptions ; and I feel a confidence in 
dedicating this volume to your Ladyship, arising from 
the conviction, that the benevolent heart and gifted 
mind of Mrs. Hofland cannot fail to be highly esti- 
mated by one, in whose great amiableness and many 
accomplishments we see happily exemplified so much 
which that excellent lady herself inculcated and prac- 
tised throughout the long and honourable life which 
the volume records. 

I have the honour to remain, 
Madam, 
Your Ladyship's faithful and obliged servant, 
Thomas Ramsay. 



PREFACE. 



A correspondence with the estimable lady 
who is the subject of this Memoir, which 
extended over a period of about twenty 
years, the enjoyment of her cordial friend- 
ship, an intimate acquaintance with her 
writings, and a warm appreciation of her 
character, have qualified me, perhaps, in 
some measure, for the task I have under- 
taken. But although it has been in many 
respects a labour of love, I was reluctant to 
venture upon its performance, lest I should 
fail in doing justice to one whose memory 
has such high claims upon our regard, as 
well from the large contributions she made 
to the literature of our country, — humble it 
might be in its rank, but in its influence 



Vlll ' PREFACE. 



most important, — as from her social and 
domestic virtues, and her intellectual accom- 
plishments. 

Mrs. Hofland had, at her decease, com- 
pleted the fortieth year of her authorship. 
She produced during that period upwards 
of sixty different works; many of which 
have been translated into nearly all the lan- 
guages of Europe. Of the English editions 
alone, it is estimated that upwards of three 
hundred thousand copies have been disposed 
of by the London publishers ; while in the 
United States of America the sale of re- 
prints is understood to have been propor- 
tionably large. 

The "Life and Literary Remains" of so 
popular a writer ought to possess a deep 
interest for that generation from which she 
has so lately departed, and on which she 
has shed some halo, and conferred much 
benefit. 

My only regret is, that it has not fallen 
into abler hands to discharge this duty. I 
did, however, offer the materials in my pos- 



PREFACE. IX 

session to one who was by her literary at- 
tainments, if not by her personal acquaint- 
ance with Mrs. Holland, much more capable 
than I could pretend to be, of performing 
this duty creditably and efficiently; but it 
was urged upon me in preference ; and, not- 
withstanding a due sense of my deficiencies, 
I could not, under all the circumstances, 
shrink from the undertaking. 

In carrying it out, I have confined myself, 
as much as possible, within the strictest 
limits of legitimate biography, though the 
letters and papers at my disposal would have 
enabled me to extend it considerably, had I 
been disposed to travel much out of the 
boundaries of Mrs. Hofland's literary life. 

That the subject of this Memoir was an 
extraordinary person — -that her numerous 
works have gained extensive popularity, have 
exercised a potent moral influence, and will, 
many of them at least, go down to a distant 
posterity — cannot, I think, be questioned; 
and it is natural to conclude from these 
considerations, that those whom she has 



PREFACE. 



already so much interested by her works, 
would be glad to know something of her 
character and life, and might be enter- 
tained, if not instructed, by such of her 
literary remains as have never yet been 
made public. 

" It were chimerical," says Swift, " to 
write for posterity, of whose taste we can- 
not make any judgment, and whose applause 
we can never enjoy." But this chimera, if 
it really be one, never influenced the mind 
of our authoress. Her motive was too pure, 
her object too elevated, for such an appre- 
hension to be conceived. It was the prin- 
ciple of moral goodness, rather than the 
gratification of ambition, which constantly 
inspired and actuated her literary efforts; 
and it is this which constitutes their charm, 
and was the secret of their success. 

The volume is, moreover, an humble tri- 
bute to the memory of one who deserves to 
be ranked among the worthies of her country. 

My best acknowledgments are due to Mr. 
and Mrs. S. C. Hall, and also to Mr. Alfred 



PREFACE. XI 

J. Roberts, of Hammersmith, for having 
placed at my disposal several documents, 
which have contributed materially to the 
interest of the volume ; and I must beg 
those kind friends to accept this public ex- 
pression of my warmest thanks. 

T. R. 

London, S, Peter's Day, 1849. 



The following is a list of Mrs. Holland's publica- 
tions, many of which have become standard works in 
the walk of literature to which they belong : 

Little Dramas for Young People, from English His- 
tory ; La Fete de la Eose ; A Season at Harrogate ; 
Clergyman's Widow ; Officer's "Widow ; Says she to 
her Neighbour, What ? 4 vols. ; The Sisters ; Northern 
Travellers; Patience and Perseverance, 4 vols.; Pa- 
norama of Europe ; Merchant's Widow ; Visit to Lon- 
don, or Emily and her Friends, 4 vols.; Ellen, the 
Teacher, 2 vols. ; A Father as he should be ; Barba- 
does Girl ; Blind Farmer and his Children ; Son of a 
Genius ; Good Grandmother and her Offspring ; Ab- 
bess of Valtiera, 4 vols. ; Tales of the Manor, 4 vols. ; 



Xll 

Tales of the Priory, 4 vols. ; Captives in India, 3 vols. ; 
The Czarina, 3 vols. ; King's Son, 3 vols. ; Hildebrand, 
3 vols.; Alfred Campbell; Alfred, the Young Pilgrim; 
Decision ; Energy ; Farewell Tales ; Fortitude ; Hu- 
mility ; Integrity ; Moderation ; Patience ; Reflection ; 
Self-Denial ; Young Cadet ; Adelaide ; Affectionate 
Brothers ; Alicia and her Aunt ; Daughter-in-Law ; 
Elizabeth, and her Three Beggar-Boys ; Godmother's 
Tales; Rich Boys and Poor Boys; Stolen Boy, an 
Indian Tale ; William and his Uncle Ben ; Young 
Northern Traveller; Young Crusoe; Beatrice; Daugh- 
ter of a Genius ; Theodore, or the Crusaders ; The 
Unloved One ; Africa Described ; Emily's Reward, 
or a Holiday Trip to Paris. 



CONTENTS. 



CHAPTER I. 

Pre-eminence of England in Female Writers — their 
value and importance — literature as a profession — 
Mrs. Hofland — her birth-place — "classic Sheffield" — 
her early character and person — marriage with Mr. 
Hoole — early widowhood — loss of property — publica- 
tion of poems— opens a boarding-school — commences 
writing tales — "The Clergyman's Widow" — meets 
with Mr. Hofland — her second mariage. - 1 

CHAPTER II. 

Removal to London — necessity for the pursuit of liter- 
ature as a profession — "The Son of a Genius" — 
Hofland's progress as an artist — industry of Mrs. 
Hofland as a writer — anecdotes of her advancing 
career — the late Duke of Marlborough's patronage 
of the Hoflands, and the troubles it entailed on them 
—"The White Knights"— Mrs. Hofland's descrip- 
tion of, and Poems thereon— her opinion of poetry — 
specimens — " Albert and Bertha", a dramatic sketch 
— " Lines suggested by an Engraving" — " Sonnet on 
seeing a View of the Great Pyramid". - - 25 



XIV CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER III. 

Acquaintance with the world of literature and art — 
sketches of society — literary coteries — annoyance 
produced by being discovered as their reporter — 
aversion to notoriety — her accomplishments as a 
talker — the Art of Conversation. - - - 50 

CHAPTER IV. 

Henry Neele — her warm friendship for him — his dis- 
tressing death — shock to the Hoflands — biographical 
sketch of the deceased by Mrs. Honand — her episto- 
lary powers — the lakes of Cumberland — her admira- 
tion of their scenery — Lines to the Cumberland 
rocks — her account of the lakes — a poetical tribute. 74 

CHAPTER V. 

The Rev. Frederick Hoole — the object of affectionate, 
yet painful, solicitude with his mother — his last 
illness and death — Mrs. Honand's affecting account 
of it — her consolations — her deep but unostentatious 
piety — illustrated in an essay on November, and the 
" Fall of the leaf " 100 

CHAPTER VI. 

Mrs. Honand and the world of letters — her select 
circle — letters relative thereto — her generosity and 
charity towards sister poets — brother poets — " Shef- 
field and its poets" - - - - 118 



CONTENTS. XV 



CHAPTER VII. 



Mrs. Holland's attachment to art — her high opinion of 
her husband's pictures — not appreciated by him — 
his visits tp the great — "A Husband's Welcome 
Home" — her^ qualifications for judging of art — her 
interest in artists — biographical sketch of one — a 
romance in real life. - - - - 137 



CHAPTER VIII. 

Mrs. Hofland's partiality for a country life — Holland 
as an angler — Sonnet on Angling — retirement at 
Richmond — state of society in London and the 
country — her novel of "The Unloved One" — her 
own criticism — unpublished tale, " The Village 
Florist" — further specimens of her poetry — Lines on 
the Queen's Marriage, the Princess Royal, Prince 
Albert, and the Queen Dowager. - - - 156 



CHAPTER IX. 

Fresh afflictions — Mr. Hofland's illness and death — 
his character as an artist — devotion to angling — love 
of the picturesque — the poet Wordsworth — sympathy 
with Mrs. Hofland — excursion to Paris — her last 
work — visit to her friends in Yorkshire—return to 
Richmond. - - - - - 190 



XVI CONTENTS. 



CHAPTER X. 

Warnings of her latter end — attachment to her late 
husband's pictures — her last work — sonnets — resumes 
her habit of writing — sad accident — last illness — 
death — neglected by the clergy — opinions of her 
works — Mrs. Hall's estimate of her character — monu- 
ment in Richmond churchyard. - 203 



THE 

LIFE AND LITERARY REMAINS 

1_^ 0F 

BARBAEA HOFLAND, 



CHAPTER I. 

pre-eminence of england in female writers 

their value and importance — literature as a 

profession — mrs. hofland — her birth-place 

"classic Sheffield" — her early character 

and person marriage with mr. hoole early 

widowhood loss of property publication of 

poems opens a boarding-school — commences 

writing tales " the clergyman's widow " 

meets with mr. hofland her second mar- 
RIAGE. 

The female writers of no other country have ever, 
perhaps, been so justly distinguished, or so warmly 
appreciated, as those of England. There may 
have been greater heroines in other lands : many 
such are named in classic records; as, for instance, 
the women whom Plutarch mentions as having 
made the warriors of their besieged city blush 

1 



2 LIFE AND LITERARY REMAINS OF 

because of its dishonourable surrender ; or those 
who, during the civil war in Gaul, threw them- 
selves between the contending armies, and having 
effected a reconciliation, were afterwards honoured 
by being called to the councils of the State, and 
made arbitrators to the neighbouring nations ; or, 
those Carthagenian women, more heroic still, who, 
during one of the Punic wars, cut off their hair 
to make bow-strings for the archers. In a still 
higher and holier sense, the eminence of women 
in deeds of heroism has often been most signal. 
A group of pious women surrounded the Saviour's 
cross, when every man, save the beloved disciple, 
had forsaken Him and fled. By women, the 
Christian religion was carried to the thrones of 
emperors and kings ; and the annals of martyrdom 
abound with the names of devoted women who 
sealed the truth with their blood. These are 
instances of female eminence, concerning which 
other countries may dispute with us for the palm. 
But in literature, — in authorship, — we look in 
vain elsewhere for anything which can surpass, or 
even equal, the efforts of Englishwomen. There 
may have been greater wits among the women of 
other lands, as those of France, perhaps ; but in 
the sterling merits of literature, and for the real 
honours of authorship, our countrywomen may 



BARBARA HOFLAND. o 

vie with the sisterhood of any nation, or of any 
age. 

Few of these have been more distinguished 
than Hannah More, who has declared, that among 
the talents, for the application of which her sex 
are peculiarly ^accountable, there is one, whose 
importance they cannot rate too highly, and that 
is influence ; the general state of civilized society 
depending very greatly upon the prevailing habits 
and opinions of women. And, doubtless, this is 
quite true. But how can their opinions be so 
effectually propagated as by books ? Hannah 
More has herself, by her own publications, given 
a practical answer to this question. She has, in 
one place, expressed an anxious hope, that in a 
country where her sex enjoy the advantages of a 
liberal education, of just legislation, pure religion, 
and all the endearing satisfaction of equal, vir- 
tuous, and social intercourse, women will not con- 
tent themselves with captivating man merely for 
a day, when they can be successfully labouring 
for all time, and even for eternity : and it is 
undeniable that there is no more forcible, no more 
certain means, of facilitating such an object, than 
by the powers of authorship. 

To no class of public writers will Dr. Johnson's 
remarks apply with greater truth, than to the 



4 LIFE AND LITERARY REMAINS OF 

generality of our literary countrywomen, when 
he says, that " the task of our present writers 
requires, together with that learning which is to 
be gained from books, that experience which can 
never be attained by solitary diligence, but must 
arise from general converse and accurate observa- 
tion of the living world. Their performances 
have, as Horace expresses it, plus oneris quantum 
Venice minus, little indulgence, and therefore more 
difficulty. They are engaged on portraits, of which 
every one knows the original, and can detect any 
deviation from exactness of resemblance. "Other 
writings," he adds, "are safe, except from the 
malice of learning, but these are in danger from 
every common reader ; as the slipper, ill-executed, 
was censured by a shoemaker who happened to 
stop in his way at the Venus of Apelles." Such 
writings are so much devoted to the familiar 
objects of life, whether material or ideal, that 
while they address themselves to all, all who read 
are capable of criticizing, though perhaps not 
always of appreciating them. 

Nor does that " admirable partition of qualities 
between the sexes", which has lately been remarked 
upon, and illustrated in one of the ablest of the 
transatlantic reviews, substantially oppose itself 
to this estimate of female writers. " The Author 



BARBARA HOFLAND. 5 

of our being," it is there observed, " has distri- 
buted to each, with a wisdom that challenges our 
unbounded admiration. Man is strong; woman 
is beautiful. Man is daring and confident ; woman 
is diffident and unassuming. Man is great in 
action ; womanrin suffering. Man shines abroad ; 
woman at home. Man talks to convince ; woman 
to persuade and please. Man has a rugged heart ; 
woman a soft and tender one. Man prevents 
misery ; woman relieves it. Man has science ; 
woman taste. Man has judgment; woman sen- 
sibility. Man is a being of justice ; woman an 
angel of mercy." Now, the power of woman to 
" persuade and please", her pre-eminence in suf- 
fering, her diffidence and modesty, her taste and 
sensibility, her mercy and pity, — these are qualities 
which peculiarly fit her as well to instruct as 
to delight the world, — a knowledge of which she 
is gradually acquiring, even while she " shines at 
home", in discharging the quiet duties of her own 
social circle. 

A celebrated Englishwoman of the last century 
— an elegant writer, as well as a distinguished 
wit — has, in her own case, afforded many proofs 
of these statements ; though, strange to say, she 
would have denied their practical application in 
others, whether of her own sex or not, if the occu- 



6 LIFE AND LITERARY REMAINS OF 

pation of literature had to be adopted as a pro- 
fession. Yet, our literary history will show, that 
to very many of our most gifted female writers 
this has been absolutely unavoidable. Lady 
Mary Wortley Montague was, undoubtedly, a 
brilliant exception; she had the rare fortune to 
be born to riches and independence. Yet hear 
what that extraordinary woman says upon this 
subject: — " The greatest virtue, justice, and the 
most distinguishing prerogative of mankind, — 
writing, when duly executed, do honour to 
human nature; but when degenerated into trades, 
are the most contemptible ways of getting bread" 
Such was the monstrous affectation of literary 
independence and virtue, which one of the 
most distinguished of our countrywomen, as an 
epistolary writer and a poet, was so prejudiced 
as to express — in an age, however, when the 
claims of women to literary distinction w r ere less 
acknowledged than they have been since, and 
when the profession of letters was perhaps less 
understood ; or, at any rate, less appreciated than 
it is at present. 

The subject of our memoir was certainly one 
who pursued the path of letters as a profession. 
With her, writing had, in sad truth, " degenerated 
into a trade", and was made a " way of getting 



BARBARA HOFLAND. 7 

bread"! Yet, so far from being "one of the 
most contemptible ways", she made it one of 
the most honourable to herself, as it was un- 
questionably most useful to others. Lady Mon- 
tague's notions, however, were not confined, a 
century ago, \o ithe rich and the great. Oliver 
Goldsmith (who, if not a contemporary of Lady 
Mary, followed closely in her track) acknowledges, 
that "a man who should write for bread, and 
honestly confess that he did it," — and we may 
reasonably conclude that the objection would apply 
with redoubled force to a woman, — "might as 
well send his manuscript to fire the baker's oven ; 
not one creature would read him ; all must be 
court-bred poets, or pretend, at least, to be court- 
bred, who can expect to please." We wonder 
how many — or, rather, how few — of the most 
splendid of those productions of genius and learn- 
ing, of which our country has so much reason to 
be proud, would ever have seen the light, had 
their authors been deterred by the idea of the 
exercise of their talents " degenerating into a 
trade", and of its being " the most contemptible 
way of getting bread"! 

She, whose life is now to engage our attention, 
had not perhaps the brilliancy, and certainly she 



8 LIFE AND LITERARY REMAINS OF 

had not the ostentation, which such women as 
Lady Mary Wortley Montague have displayed : 

" Her's was an unobtrusive blaze, 
Content in lowly shades to shine." 

Yet she was ever found exerting her faculties in 
works of religion and virtue, and in a way to " do 
honour to", by ennobling, human nature. 

Mrs. Hofland was a native of Sheffield, — of 
" classic Sheffield", as Lord Byron sneeringly 
styled it, in connexion with another of its- wor- 
thies, James Montgomery the poet,* who on one 
occasion, publicly and eloquently repelled this 
ungenerous taunt upon the place of his adoption, 
where he had from his youth up found a home, and 
gained reputation, and competency, and " troops of 
friends". He said : — " The term classic operates 
like a spell upon our imagination. Without our 
affixing to it any definite meaning, we associ- 
ate with it all that is splendid, beautiful, and 
excellent, in the surviving pages of ancient authors, 
as well as all that is venerable, sublime, and 
almost superhuman, in the relics of Egyptian, 



* u O'er his lost works let classic /Sheffield weep : 
May no rude hand disturb their early sleep." — 

English Bards and Scotch Reviewers. 



BARBARA HOFLAND. 9 

Greek, and Roman architecture and sculpture, 
the severest and most enduring of manual labours. 
In these, for the present at least, let the writers 
and builders stand alone and unrivalled. They 
were the few; but what is the condition of the 
many in the renowned regions whence we have 
derived those treasures of literature, and in which 
we inherit (as common property to all who have 
minds to admire them) the wreck of those stu- 
pendous structures of human art ? So far as the 
epithet ' classic' is an accommodated word, em- 
ployed by a kind of literary courtesy to designate 
superiority of intellect and knowledge, I am bold 
to affirm that Sheffield is as * classic' as Egypt 
was in the age of Sesostris ; as Greece was in the 
days of Homer; and as Rome was at any period 
between her foundation and the close of the third 
Punic war." 

Then, after exhibiting in detail the contrast 
between Sheffield and those famous places of anti- 
quity, whose names have become immortalized 
by means of their "classic'' associations, and 
stating, that this humble corner of the kingdom 
had within the present generation given birth 
to four men,* each of whom might in their 

* Salt, in botany ; Sylvester, in experimental philoso- 
phy ; Hunter, in antiquities ; and, last and greatest of all, 
Chantrey, in sculpture. 



10 LIFE AND LITERARY REMAINS OF 

respective professions be placed in the first rank 
of Britons, — Mr. Montgomery thus concluded, 
— " I should not have done justice to my theme 
this day, after contending that the people of 
Sheffield might bear away the palm of general 
knowledge from the most enlightened nations of 
old, if I had not shown by these examples of our 
illustrious contemporaries, that Hallamshire* is 
as capable of giving birth to men of genius, as 
were Egypt, Greece, and Rome when literature 
and philosophy flourished among their privileged 
orders". He might have added, "of women of 
genius" too, of whom Mrs. Hofland was un- 
doubtedly one ; though at the time of those 
allusions (a quarter of a century ago), she had 
certainly not attained the full meridian of her 
fame. 

Barbara Hofland was born in the year 1770. 
Her maiden name was Wreaks. Her father was 
the principal partner in an extensive manufactory 
of the staple products of the place ; but he died 
when she was very young, and her mother marry- 
ing again soon afterwards, the little "Barbara" 
was consigned to the fostering care of a maiden 

* The name of the district of which Sheffield is the centre 
and capital. 



BARBARA HOFLAND. 11 

aunt, who brought her up with parental attention, 
growing more attached to her interesting charge, as 
time developed the glowing feelings of her young 
heart, and the rich graces of her expanding mind ; 
in which she did not fail to discern the virtues 
and the talents-which distinguished their possessor 
in after life. Nor was she, when she grew up to 
womanhood, without many personal attractions. 
I have met with those who knew her well at that 
time, and who have described her to me as, though 
not what would be called decidedly handsome* yet 
extremely prepossessing; the intelligence of her 
countenance, the beauty of her complexion, and 
the symmetry of her figure, combining to form a 
most agreeable and attractive person. 

a The feeling heart, simplicity of life, 
And elegance and taste : the faultless form, 
Shap'd by the hand of harmony ; the cheek, 
Where the live crimson, through the native white, 
Soft-shooting, o'er the face diffuses bloom." 

This description of the poet has been applied to 
the subject of my memoir, as she was remembered 
when Barbara Wreaks, even when at the not 
very youthful age of twenty-six she entered into 
the holy estate of matrimony. 

The gentleman upon whom she bestowed her 
hand, Mr. T. Bradshawe Hoole, was much es- 



12 LIFE AND LITERARY REMAINS OF 

teemed in her native town for his high character 
and worthiness ; and their union gave promise of 
much happiness. He was the junior partner in 
an extensive firm of Sheffield merchants, whose 
transactions were chiefly with foreign countries, 
and to whom he was a great acquisition, as well 
from his steadiness and business habits, as from 
his acquaintance with several of the languages of 
continental Europe. But their happiness, which 
had been enhanced by the birth of a daughter, 
in the first year of their union, and of a son 
in the year following, was pot destined to con- 
tinue. Two short years of domestic bliss were 
all that she was now permitted to know. Her 
dear and devoted husband was suddenly seized 
with rapid consumption; her firstborn sickened 
and died; and in a little while she was un- 
happily left a widow, at the early age of 
twenty-eight, her infant son being then but four 
months old. Nor did the melancholy change thus 
overshadowing her career terminate with these 
bereavements. Her severe affliction was aggra- 
vated and extended by the failure of the house in 
which her departed husband was a partner. The 
political vicissitudes which at the close of the last 
century disturbed and depressed so many of the 
continental states had brought ruin on most of the 



BARBARA HOFLAND. 13 

foreign customers of the firm, which thereby be- 
came bankrupt, and swept away by its fall the 
whole of the property upon which the unfortunate 
widow and her child had to depend for subsistence. 
Some time afterwards, property was bequeathed 
to the child, %j his grandfather, which would 
have amounted to a handsome fortune by the 
time he came of age ; but this also was lost by 
a similar calamity to that which had befallen his 
father's firm : the surviving trustee, into whose 
hands it passed, became insolvent shortly before 
the period when his trust would have expired, 
and all his ward's property was involved in his 
ruin. 

The circumstances of the young widow were 
now such as to demand her utmost efforts to 
provide for the maintenance of herself and 
child. Her first expedient was the publication of a 
volume of poems. Almost from early youth she 
had indulged her poetic fancy in the composition 
of various fugitive pieces ; and at the suggestion 
of her friends these were now collected, and the 
proposal announced to publish them by subscrip- 
tion. This was her first public essay as an au- 
thoress, and it was in all respects such as must 
have encouraged her to turn her thoughts to 
literature as a source of emolument. Much 



14 LIFE AND LITERARY REMAINS OP 

of its success, however, was doubtless owing to 
the high esteem in which she was held by an 
extensive circle of friends ; though among the 
subscribers to her little volume, — who numbered 
upwards of two thousand, — were many who from 
their rank in life must have been actuated by 
higher and more public motives; those, perhaps, 
of sympathy for the widow and the fatherless, 
combined with the feeling of regard for that literary 
accomplishment for which she had already, even 
beyond her own immediate circle, acquired in 
some degree a flattering reputation. Her volume 
was entitled, Poems by Barbara Hoole, and was 
dedicated to the Countess Fitzwilliam, by her 
ladyship's kind permission; the head, and several 
members, of the house of Wentworth being sub- 
scribers to the work. 

" I never list presume to Parnass' hill, 
But piping low in shade of lowly grove, 
I play to please myself, albeit ill." 

These lines of Spenser formed the appropriate 
motto she adopted for her title-page. They were 
most characteristic of her feelings, and well ex- 
pressed the modesty and diffidence of her disposi- 
tion. This was manifested also in the preface, or. 
advertisement, of her book. " The author of the 



BARBARA HOFLAND. 15 

following poems/' she observes, " most gratefully 
acknowledges the kindness of her friends, and the 
liberality of the public. Her subscription list is 
nearly unexampled in numbers and respectabi- 
lity : it has Exceeded her hopes, and crow r ned her 
wishes.'" And then, after alluding to some errors 
and omissions in the list, she modestly adds : — 
" Concerning the poems themselves, it becomes 
her to be silent. It is well known in the circle of 
her acquaintance, that they have not been printed 
from motives of ambition or ostentation : she 
therefore, requests that they may be judged with 
an indulgence rather worthy of the generosity of 
her readers, than due to their merits." 

She had, indeed, formed a just estimate of their 
quality, which was not such, it must be confessed, 
as would have deserved of itself the large and 
liberal and distinguished patronage awarded to 
them. Some fair poetic imagery they undoubt- 
edly contain, with abundance of purest sentiment, 
and some fine thoughts; but, as a whole, they 
want the talent which has been displayed in her 
prose works ; and they could not be said to indi- 
cate the possession of those literary abilities which 
she in after years put forth. 

Some of the poems contain touching allusions 
to those things which could not fail to be deare 



16 LIFE AND LITERARY REMAINS OF 

to her widowed heart ; as, for instance, the fol- 
lowing : — 



THE WIDOW TO HER INFANT IN THE CRADLE. 



Blossom of hope ! whose cherub-smile 
Can all thy mother's woes beguile ; 
Sweet bud of comfort ! in whose face 
Her sorrowing eye delights to trace 
Through every feature, opening fair, 
An image of thy father there. 
Ah ! gentle germ of joy unborn, 
Pale beam of an o'er-shadow'd morn, 
How shall thy mother's soul express 
Her hope, her fear, her soft distress, 
As, bending o'er thy cradled form, 
She deprecates life's future storm, 
And prays, with all a parent's fears, 
For blessings on thine early years : 
Ah ! babe beloved ! condemned to bloom 
A floweret on thy father's tomb ; 
Unmindful thou, that sorrow's power 
Hath mark'd thee from life's earliest hour ; 
Reckless of many a bitter tear 
That flow'd upon thy father's bier, 
And many a briny torrent shed 
Upon thine own unconscious head : 
Yet, while thy little cheek hath prest 
Thy hapless mother's throbbing breast, 



BARBARA HOFLAND. 17 

No tongue could urge a plea like thine, 
To soothe a breaking heart like mine ; 
Pour thro' the breast so sweet a charm, 
And e'en despair's fell pang disarm. 



Lo ! on the hoary rock, whose rugged breast 
Hath braved the pelting storms of many a year, 

Eve's brilliant sunbeams sink in lovely rest, 
And tinge the purple clouds that linger near. 

Sweet scenes of wonder, scenes of beauty, cease ; 

Ye charm the eye, but can your powers impart 
The long-lost vision of returning peace, 

The long-lost raptures of a widow'd heart ] 

Ah ! no ; in vain your mighty rocks arise, 

Your soft streams murmur in the pensive ear ; 

Like them, my drooping heart more deeply sighs, 
Like them, dissolves in many an anxious tear. 

The feeling here evinced is most natural, most 
maternal, — it evidently comes from the heart ; 
nor is the language in which it is expressed devoid 
of force, though it may be deficient in poetry. 
Yet, of the poetic influence she was sensible in 
all its depth, and all its warmth ; as witness the 
following commencement of an Invocation to 
Poetry : — 

" When morbid melancholy oft oppress'd, 
Or keen-eyed sorrow pierc'd my bleeding breast, 

2 



18 LIFE AND LITERARY REMAINS OF 

Thou, Poesy ! wert wont to soothe my hours, 
And strew the wayward path with smiling flowers. 
Oh ! haste thee now, dear maid ! with power endued, 
The weak to strengthen, and to quell the rude ; 
Breathe from thy balmy lip thy melting sound, 
That heals with holy art the bosom's wound, 
Wakes in the torpid soul her genial fire, 
And calls the passions round thy breathing lyre ; 
Bids each fine string the finer senses move, 
Lends hope to joy, and tenderness to love, — 
From soften'd grief extracts a gentle charm, 
To soothe the heart, the social feelings warm ; 
Strike tyrant rage, or black despondence mute, 
Awed by thy voice, or mellow'd by thy lute ! " 

This soothing power, it would seem, she had 
called into frequent requisition, since her troubles 
had come upon her. The following little piece 
affords an instance of this : — 



LINES, 

WRITTEN AT HUDDERSFIELD WHEN FREDERICK* WAS ILL. 

On my pale cheek, for ever fled, 

The rose of health no more shall bloom ; 

Nor hope her lovely lustres shed, 
To gild my bosom's midnight gloom. 

* The author's only child. 



BARBARA HOFLAND. 19 

By every trembling nerve confest, 

O'er all my soul's declining powers, 
I feel the hand of sorrow prest, 

And deep despair malignly lowers. 
But one^famt star, for many a day, 

Cheer'd my fond heart with infant light ; 
Behold ! it sinks, — dear dawning ray, — 

It sinks — in shades of central night ; — 
Torn from the quivering heart that bleeds to save, 
Sinks in young beauty to the ruthless grave ! 

Her domestic sorrows and sympathies seem to 
have called forth many of the effusions found 
in the volume, though the greater part of them 
were the accumulation of by-gone years. The 
following was evidently an outpouring of the 
mournful though chastened feeling of the widowed 
heart : — 



TO MY COTTAGE. 

Adieu, dearest cottage, adieu ! 

For. ah ! 'tis with sorrow I ween, 
That I shall no longer review 

Thy woodbine, thy turf-seat so green. 

No more, save in memory's eye, 

See the sylphs that enliven'd thy grove, 
And give to past pleasures a sigh 

On the site of connubial love. 



20 LIFE AND LITERARY REMAINS OF 

Yet deep in my heart shall remain 

The feelings engraven by thee ; 
And fondly my soul shall retain 

Each image of seat, flower, and tree. 

And dearly remembrance shall dwell 
On the beauties from which I depart, 

And bear from the sweets of this cell 
Some treasure to solace my heart. 

These are simple yet sweet little poems ; and 
they may be taken as a fair sample of the whole. 
Severely criticized, they may be found to want 
the vigour, the power, as well as the grace and 
finish, which characterized the later productions 
of her pen ; but they are neither without force 
nor elegance, nor are they by any means devoid 
of feeling : but if it be true, as hath been said, 
that "the truest poetry is most feigning", then 
were she not a poet, though the sentiment is one 
which few poets, perhaps, would be willing to 
acknowledge. 

The publication of these poems took place in 
1805. Mrs. Holland was, therefore, before the 
public, as an author, for the long period of forty 
years, — her powers gradually developing them- 
selves, and her popularity steadily increasing, as 
time rolled on. The success of her first literary 
venture was such as might well incite her to new 



BARBARA HOFLAND. 21 

intellectual exertions, though in another and a 
soberer department of letters ; and the walk she 
henceforth chose, and with slight exceptions ad- 
hered to, shewed how correct a judgment she had 
formed of h£r own peculiar faculty, as well as of 
the public taste, and the public requirements. 
The list of subscribers to her little volume occu- 
pied upwards of forty of its pages ; and the pro- 
ceeds amounted to several hundred pounds, — a 
result almost unparalleled in the annals of liter- 
ature. 

With the sum thus honourably and flatteringly 
earned, Mrs. Hoole was enabled to open a board- 
ing-school at Harrogate. This, indeed, far more 
than mere literary reputation, had been the object 
she aimed at in the publication of her poems. 
For some time the undertaking promised well, but 
by and by its prosperity declined ; and again she 
had recourse to her pen to aid, first in securing 
the means of maintaining her position in society, 
and then in enabling her to make a livelihood at 
all. One of the best, most popular, and most 
profitable, of her productions at this time, was 
The Clergyman^ Widow, which has passed through 
edition after edition, until, altogether, as many as 
seventeen thousand copies have been sold by the 
London publishers. 



22 LIFE AND LITERARY REMAINS OF 

After a widowhood of ten years, passed in 
anxious and almost unceasing exertions to secure 
a competency for herself and her child, she at- 
tracted the notice of Mr. Thomas Christopher 
Hofland, a young artist of very promising talent, 
belonging to a highly respectable family in a 
neighbouring county. He possessed that graceful, 
cultivated mind, and that dashing and gallant bear- 
ing, which could scarcely fail to make a favour- 
able impression upon a mind so congenial, and so 
enthusiastic as hers. She reciprocated with him 
those allurements of imagination and of taste 
which, unchecked and unchastened, are so apt to 
bewilder : 

" Smit with, the love of sister arts they came, 
And met congenial, mingling flame with flame." 

His pecuniary means, it is true, were only 
scanty, and his prospects more than doubtful. 
His family, like her own, had felt the shock of 
those convulsions which had, but a few years 
before, so fearfully shaken both the commercial 
and political institutions of the country ; and his 
lot, as well as her own, was to struggle with 
adversity ; but, like the gentle Desdemona : 

(C She loved him for the troubles he had passed, 
And he loved her that she did pity them." 



BARBARA HOFLAND. 23 

This was, no doubt, an ingredient in that cup of 
affection, of which each now drank; and their 
determination was soon formed to unite their 
hands and fortunes in the bonds of wedlock. 

The character which she afterwards drew of a 
young artist, in her Son of a Genius, when she 
represents him as seeking the hand of a virtuous 
and sensitive woman, may be taken as a sketch of 
him who now engrossed her own affections. " I 
admired him the most," she makes her heroine 
timidly to say, "when at the very moment he was 
quoting that fine passage of poetry, at the name 
of mother, — -his own seemed to cross his mind, his 
eyes filled with tears, and he was unable to pro- 
ceed ; for then I knew that, surprising and clever 
as he is, his heart felt just as my own would have 
done at such a sad remembrance !" And the fol- 
lowing passages may be understood to apply to 
the same person: — "He had spent much time 
among the great, the gay, and the accomplished, 
where his varied talents, elegant manners, and 
fine person, had attracted their attention, and in- 
duced them to call forth all their powers of pleas- 
ing — since every person is anxious to be appreci- 
ated by those they consider proficients or judges : 
but he had never yet met with a young woman at 
once so simple and so wise as Agnes : and he 



24 LIFE AND LITERARY REMAINS OF 

yielded with his accustomed submission to the 
prevailing impulse — the passion which she had 
inspired, and which it was not difficult to render 
reciprocal in one already prepossessed in his fa- 
vour." Again : — " At the time of his marriage 
he was in possession of a considerable degree of 
public favour; but, as he had embraced landscape 
painting (a branch of the art slow in the fame it 
bestows, and by no means lucrative until that 
fame is established), it was necessary to husband 
his little patrimony with prudence, unless he in- 
creased it by the ordinary method, that of teach- 
ing; but there was, according to his apprehen- 
sion, a degradation in this mode of employing his 
abilities — unworthy of him as a man of genius; 
he, therefore, applied himself exclusively to paint- 
ing ; and, professing himself devoted to his art, 
conceived, with all the ardour natural to his years 
and character, that success must ultimately crown 
his labours." 

All this, there is little doubt, was " drawn from 
the life' 1 ; and he who sat for the portrait was Mr. 
Hofland, whom in due course she had married; 
though in doing so, she acted in opposition to the 
wishes and opinions of her family and friends. 



BARBARA HOFLAND. 25 



CHAPTEE II. 

removal to london necessity for the pursuit of 

literature as a profession " the son of a 

genius" hofland's progress as an artist in- 
dustry of mrs. hofland as a writer — anecdotes 
of her advancing career — the late duke of 
Marlborough's patronage of the hoflands, and 

the troubles it entailed on them "the white 

knights" mrs. hofland's description of, and 

poems thereon — her opinion of poetry speci- 
mens "albert and bertha", a dramatic sketch 

— "lines suggested by an engraving 5 '— " sonnet 
on seeing a view of the great pyramid". 

Mr. Hofland had settled at Knaresborough, 
where he first met the subject of this memoir; 
it is situate within two or three miles of Harrogate, 
where she had for some years resided. They re- 
mained there for several months after their marri- 
age; but at length the growing enthusiasm and 
ambition of the artist could endure no longer the 
obscurity of a provincial town, and he resolved to 
remove to the metropolis. One may imagine him 
saying to his anxious wife, in the language of im- 



26 LIFE AND LITERARY REMAINS OF 

patience which she has put into the mouth of the 
character introduced towards the close of the last 
chapter : " London is the place, the only place for 
a painter : I have indeed been cooped up too long 
in the country ; but we will now set out immedi- 
ately." Nor had she, probably, any doubt herself 
that the talents of her husband would be best ap- 
preciated and encouraged in the metropolis; though 
she had her own misgivings as to his immediate 
success, and knew but too well the limited resources 
on which they must depend for subsistence. 

And soon were these apprehensions realized. 
Hofland was not quite unknown at this time 
in the world of art; he had had a picture exhi- 
bited in the Royal Academy ; but had yet estab- 
lished no reputation whereon to build his suc- 
cess in such a region as that in w T hich he had 
come to jostle his way; he had no wealthy patrons, 
and but few influential friends, at that time. But 
he had talents — and so had his wife ; and we 
shall see as we proceed how well these were ex- 
erted on both sides — more especially on her part 
with whom we have more directly to do. Her 
own description, which is taken from the work 
already referred to, will furnish, perhaps, the 
best notion of their present situation: — " His 
hopes revived with the appearance of his wonted 



BARBARA HOFLAND. 27 

apparatus; and setting seriously to work, he 
shortly produced two beautiful views of the lakes, 
which were at that time, as now, in deserved re- 
putation. Desirous of obtaining the suffrage of 
artists for his' pictures, he took the opportunity of 
calling on several with whom he had either been 
acquainted formerly, or whose names stood so 
high on the list of professional celebrity, as to be 
considered general patrons of the arts. He was 
received by the former with coldness, either as a 
man forgotten, or as a man whose competition 
was not desirable: by the latter with more urbanity, 
but not sufficient freedom to encourage a warm 
and generous spirit like his to throw itself on 
their protection ; and he returned to his lodgings 
disgusted and dispirited, to consider the best way 
of disposing of his pictures, for the frames of 
which he had already paid two-thirds of all that 
he had in the world."" 

Thus unhappily circumstanced, necessity sharp- 
ened the invention, and stimulated the exertions 
of the devoted wife ; and Mrs. Hofland in a short 
time pursued the profession of authorship with such 
glowing zeal, and unremitting diligence, that in 
one year she produced five different works, which 
were all published in rapid succession, and became 
exceedingly popular. 



28 LIFE AND LITERARY REMAINS OF 

The first work she wrote in London was The 
Daughter-in-law, which was so much admired by 
the good Queen Charlotte, that Her Majesty was 
induced to signify her royal permission that some 
future work of an authoress so talented, and who 
aimed so successfully both to " point the moral", 
and to " adorn the tale", with a view to the highest 
improvement of her readers, might be dedicated to 
herself. In the following year this great privi- 
lege was exercised by Mrs. Holland in behalf of 
a novel, in four volumes, entitled Emily; and 
though this has not maintained an equal popula- 
rity with many of her other and less pretending 
works, it was yet much admired at the time, even 
in those exalted circles to which its dedication, 
under such flattering circumstances, at once gained 
it access. This novel was followed by one of in- 
finitely smaller pretensions, but which became, in 
a short time, one of the most celebrated and popu- 
lar of all those which had preceded it — that of the 
Son of a Genius, already alluded to. It has now 
gone through somewhere about twenty editions, 
and is still an established favourite with young 
people, for whose improvement it was particularly 
designed. She dedicated it to her only son, 
Frederick Hoole; "prompted," as she observed, 
M by a mother's anxiety to secure him, and other 



BARBARA HOFLAND. 29 

children of his description, from an inordinate 
and unchecked admiration of genius" In a dedi- 
cation to a later edition, when her son had grown 
to manhood, a,nd entered into Holy Orders, she 
reminds him^of this, and draws from it the fol- 
lowing reflection, so pleasing and consolatory to a 
mother's mind: "From infancy you had given 
indications of that disposition of mind, which, 
though it might justify my hopes, necessarily 
excited my fears also, and called upon me to use 
every means in my power for restraining its ardour, 
and regulating its sensibility. It is my happiness 
to recollect, that the impressions made upon your 
heart by the moral character of Ludovico were 
decidedly exemplified, and to believe that they 
prepared you to encounter, with the humility of a 
Christian, and the firmness of a man, severe and 
unexpected trials, and, in some measure, laid the 
foundation of virtues most becoming the sacred 
profession to which, from the purest motives, you 
have devoted your future life. It is under this 
idea," she continues, " that I offer you again, that 
which, although a suitable gift to a boy of thir- 
teen, would be no longer such to you, save as it 
is connected with the solicitude and affection of a 
mother, thankful that her little labour of love was 
kindly appreciated, and dutifully esteemed, by her 



30 LIFE AND LITERARY REMAINS OF 

only son. Another reason/' she adds, " may be 
found in the success of the story, which is, per- 
haps, unprecedented, towards a book so humble in 
pretension, and hitherto insignificant in appear- 
ance. It has been translated into every European 
language ; and in France, Germany, and Holland, 
has gone through numerous editions. The wise 
have condescended to praise it — the good to circu- 
late it ; therefore, I have some right to claim for it 
that consideration you are always so willing to 
bestow on every effort of mine." 

Besides the favour shewn to this work through- 
out Europe, its success has been surprisingly great 
in the United States of America; and, indeed, it 
is popular wherever the English language is 
known. It has ever called forth the warmest 
eulogiums of those whose praise is the most valu- 
able ; and among other distinguished testimonies 
to its worth which might be quoted, I may par- 
ticularly mention those of Mr. and Miss Edge- 
worth, who have declared, that no literary work 
has effected so much moral and social good among 
the people of Ireland, the recklessness and impro- 
vidence of whose character it is so well calculated 
to correct. 

Some passages of this little narrative have 
already been given, to illustrate the dispositions 



BARBARA HOFLAND. 31 

and circumstances of the Hoflands themselves; 
and I have had the less hesitation in doing this, 
from having been assured by some of their imme- 
diate connexion^ that many of the incidents of 
the tale are drawn from their own history during 
the first few years of their union. Not that Hof- 
land was in all respects, or even in any great 
degree, the original of Lewis, however truly his 
wife and her son might have been of Mrs. Lewis 
and Ludovico. Nor, even, that their circum- 
stances were at any time closely similar ; though 
in the reality, as in the fiction, there were adver- 
sities and troubles, indiscretions and impetuosities, 
and in both cases they were those of a man of 
genius, and a painter. 

The sequel of the following interesting incident 
was referred to a few pages back. The incident 
itself is equally forcible and truthful; and we 
need not doubt that Mrs. Hofland was following 
fact in the description of it. Lewis, during his 
residence in Yorkshire, had completed a large pic- 
ture, for which he purchased an expensive frame, 
and sent it to the Royal Academy. " Every 
woman of taste, sentiment, and ability,'' 1 says our 
authoress, "must feel pride and pleasure in the 
display of her husband's talents, however devel- 
oped ; and Agnes beheld with delight this proof 



32 LIFE AND LITERARY REMAINS OF 

of poor Lewis's powers, and concurred with him 
in the necessity of setting it off to the best advan- 
tage; and when he proposed that they should 
both go to London for the purpose of seeing how 
the picture was hung in the Academy, she no 
further opposed the scheme than to decline her 
share of such an expensive jaunt. Feeling with 
him, how natural it was, for a man so situated, to 
wish, with all a parent's longings, to inquire after 
the fate of his child, she encouraged him most 
affectionately to set out, and lost no time in pro- 
viding every facility for his departure ; only urg- 
ing his speedy return on account of his pupils, 
who, being nearly all grown up, were anxious to 
improve their time, and not likely to accept ex- 
cuses or delays. Lewis went to London, and 
with a beating heart flew to the Academy, and 
there beheld his long-cherished work, — that work 
on which he had expended the treasured know- 
ledge of many a year,— -to gather materials for 
which, he had been many a time burnt by the 
sun, or drenched by the shower; for which he 
had passed many a long day in uneasiness and 
hunger ; many a sleepless night in combining, 
arranging, and concluding; to which he had bent 
all the enthusiasm of his imagination, and the 
knowledge of his art ; — that picture, so valued and 



BARBARA HOFLAND. S3 

so dear, was hung in a corner, aloof from every 
eye, unnoticed by every tongue, and as little likely 
to attract attention as when the canvas lay rolled 
behind the mercer's counter. This misfortune, — 
for such it really was, — overwhelmed poor Lewis, 
and perhaps was felt the more severely, because 
it was the first he had ever really known ; for 
whatever else he had experienced of trouble, which 
he had dignified with that name, had arisen, evi- 
dently, naturally out of his own conduct, as effects 
follow causes ; and although this was a misfortune 
felt in common with many other equal sufferers, 
and was one of those disappointments he might 
have been prepared to expect, yet, for a time, he 
suffered it completely to overpower him, and 
without seeing any friend, making any inquiry 
into the state of the arts, or doing one of the 
things which he ought to have done, he precipi- 
tately returned to Leeds, to throw himself on the 
consolations of his wife, and to protest against a 
profession which, after all his labour, had deceived 
him." 

None but a painter's wife could have written 
this description ; and perhaps no painter's wife 
had ever better opportunities than Mrs. Hofland 
of drawing such scenes from the life. That her 
husband was a genius, his works yet live to tes- 

3 



34 LIFE AND LITERARY REMAINS OF 

tify ; and, to her sorrow, she knew and felt that 
he had much of the waywardness and the petu- 
lance which often accompany that perilous gift. 
Swift thus speaks of it : — " The way to have the 
absolute ascendant of your testy nag, and to keep 
your seat, is, at your first mounting, to afford him 
the whip and spurs plentifully ; after which, you 
may travel the rest of the day with great alacrity. 
Once kick the world, and the world and you live 
together at a reasonable understanding." This 
the Hofiands lived to experience at length, but 
the interval was one of much suffering and sorrow 
of heart. 

The signal success of the Son of a Genius, only 
served to stimulate its author to renewed literary 
efforts, which now became unceasing, and so con- 
tinued almost until the day of her death. Her 
powers of composition were very remarkable. Her 
fertility of thought, liveliness of imagination, rea- 
diness of invention, and facility of expression, 
formed a surprising combination of literary quali- 
ties. She threw off her works with astonishing 
rapidity ; and while busy with the writings which 
bore her name, and which were destined to have 
an enduring reputation, she found time to contri- 
bute largely, though generally anonymously, to 
the periodical literature of the day : — magazines, 



BARBARA HOFLAND. 35 

annuals, and even reviews, were enriched by her 
contributions, for she was a fine critic, as well as 
a good writer. If she laboured under any diffi- 
culty at all iji producing the works which she set 
about with so much cheerfulness and diligence, it 
never arose from any deficiency, or exhaustion of 
the powers of the mind, but only from physical 
weakness of the hand, which made her write in a 
cramped style ; and when the operation of writing 
was long continued subjected her both to awk- 
wardness and pain. I have a letter from her, 
dated "Richmond", in which she says: — " I have 
come up here to be quiet, that I may copy over 
one of my works which is to be stereotyped ; and 
it is a painful and difficult task." And, in another 
letter, written soon afterwards, dated " Newman- 
street", she says : — 

" I have lately been just worried to death, hav- 
ing had Patience to write over again and shorten, 
which was a difficult and mortifying task, but 
necessary, as otherwise it could not have been 
sold for the money it was advertised for. I hope 
now to get a little breathing time." 

The stereotyping of her works caused her much 
labour; for it required her to write out her manu- 
scripts with much more care than she was in the 
habit of using, and more than would otherwise 



36 LIFE AND LITERARY REMAINS OF 

have been necessary. In another note, she ob- 
serves : — 

u I am so hurried just now with Patience, writ- 
ing it a second time over, that I have no time for 
anything else. My Integrity and Patience are 
both going to be done in stereotype, and they 
require very careful copy for it." 

The works just named were two of a series of 
delightful fictions, designed to illustrate and en- 
force the moral virtues which are expressed in 
their titles, — Integrity, Patience, Self-denial, Hu- 
mility, Energy, Fortitude, Decision. Each of these 
formed a separate volume. There was no con- 
nexion between any one and another, nor were 
they published in any regular order. 

In addition to the works already named, Mrs. 
Holland, at various periods, produced the follow- 
ing : — Beatrice ; Captives in India ; Says she to 
her Neighbour, what? The Unloved One; Ellen, 
the Teacher ; The Merchants Widow ; Adelaide ; 
Tales of the Priory ; Tales of the Manor ; — most 
of which were highly successful. 

With reference to one of these, Beatrice, I find 
a note from my friend, in which she says : — " I 
am glad you like Beatrice. My husband thinks 
highly of some parts of it, and considers the 
second volume a great improvement upon the 



BARBARA HOFLAND. 37 

first ; only that I rush too abruptly to the con- 
clusion.'" Yet, in a subsequent note, she remarks : 
— " Beatrice did not answer at all ; though it was 
highly spoken^of in many reviews." Such are 
the uncertainties of literary fame ; and, of course, 
of literary profit. A further insight into the 
incertitudes and the " hopes deferred " of a literary 
life, is given in the following extract of a letter, 
dated " Pembroke-square, Kensington, February 
4th, 1824": — 

"B 's people are publishing (I mean, at 

present printing) a book of mine that has been 
laid by in their desk near two years, and will pro- 
bably be the last I shall offer the public. They 
have altered the title from Olivia, to Captives in 
India, thinking Indian things fashionable ; but I 
believe they are mistaken. My Frederick looked 
it through, as he always did, before they went to 
the printer's, and took out several passages on the 
subject of religion : he said, he did not like to see 
holy things in books which, though of good gene- 
ral tendency, were taken up as an amusement and 
a relaxation from more serious things. Seeing 
me look grave, he said, ' dear mother, be content 
to exercise the gifts you have, and don't try to do 
that you cannot do. Every religious person looks 
to proper books, more particularly to the Bible, for 



38 LIFE AND LITERARY REMAINS OF 

the confirmation of faith, and for spiritual instruc- 
tion ; but it is lawful, certainly, for them to read 
such books as yours, occasionally, and many use- 
ful lessons may they find in each, besides reliev- 
ing many heavy hours in times of sickness and 
anxiety; but it is not good for such writers to 
meddle with holy things beyond an assurance of 
their own belief in them.' How far he might be 
right, it is not for me to say ; but I do know that 
he believed what he said, and that he is a truly 
pious man : therefore, I think it worth consider- 
ation." 

This was certainly discouraging ; and proceed- 
ing from one of whom she thought so highly, she 
doubtless felt it the more severely. And it may 
have been under the pressure of these feelings, 
that she said of the Captives in India — " It is pro- 
bably the last I shall offer the public." But if 
such was at that time her intention, she saw suf- 
ficient reason afterwards not to adhere to it. 

In the midst of works such as these — works of 
imagination, yet of deep moral interest and influ- 
ence — containing 

" Truth severe, in fairy fiction dress'd," 

Mrs. Hofland bestowed a passing, but still a serious 
thought, upon a subject of painful national anxiety 



BARBARA HOFLAND. 39 

at the time — that of the unhappy difference be- 
tween George IV and Queen Caroline. She gave 
expression to her sentiments in a forcible and 
well-timed remonstrance, entitled, A Letter of an 
Englishwoman, which was understood to have sug- 
gested the celebrated Letter from a Sovereign to 
his People. This production, like her literary cri- 
ticism, displayed her keen penetration and fine 
discrimination, and was expressed in the nervous 
and appropriate language, which she could employ 
with so much effect. 

It was about this time that, in conjunction with 
her husband, she engaged in an undertaking which 
entailed upon them, without any fault of their 
own, a burthen of debt, which oppressed them for 
very many after years. The obligation was at 
length fully and honourably discharged, but it was 
by the sacrifice of the principal fruits of her lite- 
rary labours. The late Duke of Marlborough had 
employed Mr. Hofland to paint a series of pic- 
tures for a folio volume, which was to be entitled, 
A Descriptive Account of White Knights, a favourite 
place of his in the neighbourhood of Blenheim. 
With these pictures the work was to be illustrated, 
and the literary descriptions w T ere to be furnished 
by Mrs. Hofland. Both the artist and his gifted 
partner fulfilled their engagements most faith- 



40 LIFE AND LITERARY REMAINS OF 

fully ; but in his, their noble patron utterly failed. 
The cost of their labours was never paid ; and 
this was but a trifling part of the injury inflicted 
upon them, for Mr. Hofland became responsible 
for the sums due for the engraving and printing 
of the work, which amounted to many hundreds 
of pounds. This sum he was left to pay. A debt 
incurred for the mere gratification of individual 
pride, was thus disowned by one who, in succeed- 
ing to the possessions with which a grateful coun- 
try had rewarded the bravery and magnanimity of 
his great ancestor, had certainly not inherited the 
noble qualities which made that princely domain 
the heritage of his race. By this unworthy act, 
a poor artist, and a poor authoress, were saddled 
with a burden, which it would require the perse- 
vering labours of many years to remove ; while 
he, for whose pleasure, and by whose direction, 
the debt was incurred, " fared sumptuously every 
day," without even affording one smile of encour- 
agement, or one act of assistance, to those whom 
he had so deeply injured. Eventually, by the 
most strenuous and unceasing exertions, the whole 
sum was honourably paid : but if it had not been 
for the counsel, consolation, and assistance, which 
Mrs. Hofland was able to aflbrd to her husband, it 
must have overwhelmed him. To her this proved 



BARBARA HOFLAND. 41 

one of the severest troubles of her life, but the high 
principle which pointed out her course, sustained 
her under the trial, and crowned her efforts with 
the reward of a^ good conscience. And if there 
is something to admire in the example of the 
greatest modern writer of fiction — the author of 
Wacerley — heroically devoting his last years to 
extinguish a debt which made his very dwelling 
not his own, — which had hurried his wife to the 
grave, and threatened his children with compara- 
tive poverty, — and if it is a subject of pride to 
every honest man that he succeeded in that noble 
purpose, though it cut short the remainder of his 
days, — then must the kindred act of Mrs. Hofland 
be also regarded with admiration and pride, for it 
was an exhibition of the like persevering industry, 
strict integrity, and patient self-denial. 

The Descriptive Account of White Knights was 
not intended for public circulation; it was impos- 
sible, therefore, that there could have been any- 
thing of the nature of a speculation in the share 
which the Hoflands had in that disastrous under- 
taking. Only one hundred copies were printed, 
and they were for presentation by the Duke 
himself. Twenty-three engravings, from sketches 
made upon the spot by Hofland, adorned its pages, 
and these scenes were described and discoursed 



42 LIFE AND LITERARY REMAINS OF 

upon by Mrs. Hofland in her happiest style ; the 
whole being concluded by a beautiful poem, in 
which the whole subject was reviewed, and its 
attractions extolled. The peculiar and striking 
imagery of the poem gained for it the warm ap- 
plause of the aristocratic circle to which its circu- 
lation was mainly, if not wholly, confined. 

To Mrs. Hofland this poem was probably the 
most formidable part of her task; for although 
she wrote verse readily enough when fairly in the 
vein, she always, and not unreasonably, com- 
plained, that it required more thought and more 
effort than any other kind of literary composition. 
It was not often that she would sit down to it. 
" I am so hurried, that I cannot write verses just 
now", was a common excuse with her for declin- 
ing the task. Besides, she had an impression that 
such a walk of literature was by no means a de- 
sirable one, in a professional point of view ; and 
it was in this that she was under the necessity of 
viewing it. In a note before me, dated so long 
ago as 1823, alluding to contributions to the peri- 
odicals of the day, she says : — " I am persuaded 
that nine readers out of ten skip the poetry. I 
know that both the editors of the Museum and the 
Literary Gazette consider one prose article worth 
two of poetry, for the general reader." And, 



BARBARA HOFLAND. 43 

doubtless, as a general rule, it was so. But one 
cannot forget, that it was in the columns of the 
Literary Gazette that Miss Landon, as L. E. L., 
gained her first and freshest laurels, and that she, 
by her poems, did more, perhaps, than any other 
contributor to promote the early success of that 
publication ; while the Museum would have been 
unrelieved of much which ordinary readers of such 
a miscellany are apt to pronounce dry and unin- 
teresting, without the fugitive poetry it weekly 
set before them. Of Mrs. Hofland's powers in this 
department of literature, the following are pleas- 
ing, if not striking specimens, which may with 
propriety be classed among her " Remains" — only 
one of them having ever been seen before, beyond 
a very contracted circle. 

ALBERT AND BERTHA: 

A DRAMATIC SKETCH. 

Scene. — A rocky point, overhanging a deep, narrow, rapid 
stream ; on the other side of which rises an ancient tur- 
reted castle. 

Albert appears, leading Bertha carefully. 

AL Gently, my loye — now lean upon my arm 
And balance well that light and pliant form, 
For 'tis a dangerous point — but thou wouldst come, 



44 LIFE AND LITERARY REMAINS OF 

And who shall venture to dispute thy will, 
All lovely and all powerful 1 

Ber. {smiling.) Nay fie upon thee — wouldst thou chide 
me now, 
In our first bridal days % ere the young moon 
Hath shed her honey 1 doubt not I will keep 
My vows most humbly, but will also use 
My sex's privilege, and claim my dues — 
, Shall I not, Albert ? 

Al. Aye, now and ever, sweetest — but behold ! 
From the east tower thy father beckons us 
With eager hand, as if inspired by fear 
To see us standing in this awful spot. 

Ber. I never can know fear when thou art by ; 
Nor can I dread the place that bids me cling 
With fonder motion to thy faithful side. 
Without a blush — in truth I sought this spot, 
That thou mightst shew me, 'cross the deep ravine 
The very place (here only visible) 
Where first thy arm was tried in battle fray, 
When those mad foes poured round the castle walls, 
And shook them to the centre. 

Al. See where the light birch waves its pensile stem 
Close by the western gate — thence, as thou know'st 
Poured out our gallant vassals — to the right 
My father turned, and following him I met 
The first fierce arm that ever hurled a blow 
Against his pampered boy. 

Ber. But yet that boy received it like a man. — 
I see thee now ('tis scarce three years ago) 
Spring on thy gallant steed, and wave aloft 



BARBARA HOFLAND. 45 

The sword thy mother gave — then cast a glance, 
'Neath thy plumed bonnet, on the trembling girl, 
That mother's ward, who even in her fears 
Wished she had been thy brother, to have shared 
Thy danger an c^ thy glory. 

Ah Didst thou so wish even then ? — Ah ! cunning one ! 
Thou wert so young, so gay, the mountain roe 
Was not more shy nor mirthful — didst thou think 
Of warriors then 1 had thy girl's breast a throb 
Bespeaking passion's soft solicitude 1 

Ber. But as a sister — pray thee to thy tale — 
I love to hear of that I ne'er would see. 

Al. Oh ! I fought on — my maiden sword was sheathed 
In one fierce captain's breast, and ere withdrawn 
Two of his band set on me with intents 
Most murderous, inspired by deep revenge ; 
But light of frame, well mounted too, I 'scaped 
Up to that elm, where my brave father stood 
Unhors'd, and fighting 'gainst a host of foes — 
Ah ! Bertha, never can my soul forget 
The more than mortal agony that rent 
My very bosom at that horrid sight, 
Yet seem'd t' endue me with a giant's strength. 
But vain were all my efforts — he was bound 
As by a chain of foes, and his strong arm 
(Though one more manly never grasped a sword) 
Grew faint with labour ; whilst a villain's spear 
Was even at his throat — when lo ! there fell 
From yon tall turret (or perhaps from heaven) 
A stone that snapped the pointed spear in twain, 
And tho' not ponderous, in its falling force, 



46 LIFE AND LITERARY REMAINS OF 

Spread a most blest confusion — then I sprang 

Close to my father's side — sustained his soul — 

Ah ! how we fought ! we slew ! — thou know'st the rest— 

Know'st too there was a gentle lady found 

Fainting ion fear when we returned, anon, 

As conquerors to the castle. 

Ber. Aye, false one, thou may st jeer — but I know more 
Than all that thou hast told — that stone was thrown 
Most luckily it seems, and well I wot 
'Twas by a hand that thou hast thought most fair, 
One that thy lips hath press'd a thousand times. 

Al. Never ! by those bright eyes ! nor wouldst thou 
deem 
The deed a woman's, hadst thou seen how fell 
The life-preserving stone to us and ours. 

Ber. Yet be assured it was a female hand 
That hurl'd the bolt, then, scared with her own deed, 
Of more than woman's daring, sunk at once 
To temporary death — and thus was found. 

Al. Oh ! my prophetic soul — oft have I said 
It was an angeVs deed — my life, my love, 
And didst thou save us ? tell me where thou stood'st ? 
And how this tender hand of melting snow 
Could hurl the missile down — Oh ! beautiful, 
I'll have thee painted in the very act, 
Thy flush'd cheek glowing with the heightened red 
Of generous passion — thy blue, sparkling eye 
Darting unwonted fires, thy streaming locks 
(Of auburn touched with gold) floating abroad 
Upon the wanton breeze — where didst thou plant 
So firmly that small foot, to give thee power ? 



BARBARA HOFLAND. 47 

How didst thou heave, how hurl, the loosened stone 
From its high resting place 1 

Ber. Let go my hand, and I will shew thee how 
In that awaken'd moment, this slight form 
Performed, in eager-terror, its strong task. 
Thus did I stand — thus pushed — {shrieks) — 
Oh ! I am lost ! lost ! lost ! 

[/She falls from the rock, and sinks into the stream. 

Al. Oh ! horrible ! is there no hope 1 no help ? 
Bertha, my bride 1 my love ? my angel, stay ! 
Lost, lost, at such a moment — 
Forgive me, Heaven, I cannot — cannot bear it ! 
Thou, too, forgive me, father — I am mad, 
And death is my sole refuge — Bertha, stay ! 
I come to thee, my bride ! 

[He leaps from the precipice into the stream. 

B. H. 



LINES 

SUGGESTED BY SEEING A FINE ENGRAVING OF FLOWERS. 

Flowers ! beauteous flowers ! it well beseemeth you 
To plead Love's tender cause to Beauty's eye, 
Reveal its fears by many a changing hue, 
Or breathe its sorrows in your fragrant sigh — 
Your charms are exquisite — soft, pure, and true ; 
And their " mute eloquence" may well supply 
Sense of that joy which, like the gem-dropp'd dew, 
Lives in the fond heart's cell, unseen — or known to few. 



48 LIFE AND LITERARY REMAINS OF 

The maiden reads — lo ! every blossom tells 

Some trait of passion — of devotion's power — 

Each bright corolla with its glowing bells 

Unfolds the feelings that now rnle the hour ; 

And whilst with sympathy her bosom swells. 

And blushes prove how well she reads the flower, 

With keen solicitude the lover's eye, 

Asks from that lovely cheek " must he outlive, or die ?" 

Flowers ! beauteous flowers ! how sweet is your behest, 

Carrying pure rapture to the anxious heart, 

And planting Hope (that halo of the breast, 

Which bids fear, care, and sorrow thence depart), 

Round the young bosom as a sacred guest, 

To aid its bliss, and cure its bitterest smart — 

Thrice sacred is the office to ye given : 

Children of earth — ye now have "airs from Heaven." 

B. H. 



SOXXET, 

ON SEEING A VIEW OF THE GREAT PYRAMID, DRAWN ON THE 
SPOT BY MR. EDWARD LANE.* 

This is indeed a Pyramid ! the first 

That art hath given to my untravell'd eye, 

Where Egypt in her mighty grandeur burst 

On the charm' d sense in fanes that scan the sky : 



* Author of a work on Modern Egypt, then in course of 
publication. 



BARBARA HOFLAND. 49 

Yet have I seen these structures oft pourtray'd, 

And neither thought them vast — nor deem'd them high, 

Nor felt the " spirit of the past" pervade, 

The proudest marvels it can e'er supply — 

To thee, Lane^ alone, the praise belongs, 

Of painting ^his dread scene with deathless truth, 

And proving, spite of Time's unceasing wrongs, 

The powers of Egypt in her day of youth. 

What other land can boast like heritage 

To crown with glory slow-descending age ? 

B. H. 



50 LIFE AND LITERARY REMAINS OF 



CHAPTER III. 

ACQUAINTANCE WITH THE WORLD OF LITERATURE AND 

ART SKETCHES OF SOCIETY — LITERARY COTERIES 

ANNOYANCE PRODUCED BY BEING DISCOVERED AS 

THEIR REPORTER AVERSION TO NOTORIETY —HER 

ACCOMPLISHMENTS AS A TALKER THE ART OF CON- 
VERSATION. 

The Hoflands, for several years during their 
residence in London, occupied a house in Newman 
Street, Oxford Street, which then, as now, was 
quite the region of artists ; and there they were in 
the habit of seeing a good deal of company, prin- 
cipally that of their own class — public writers, 
painters, sculptors, or persons connected with their 
respective professions. By this means, Mrs. Hof- 
land's acquaintance with the world of literature and 
art soon became intimate and extensive ; she gave 
striking proofs of this, in some sketches of society 
in London, w T hich were contributed to a provincial 
magazine many years ago, under the title of 
" Letters to Kinsfolk", She supposes herself a 
country visitor to the great metropolis, who had 



BARBARA HOFLAND. 51 

been fortunate enough to secure the companion- 
ship of one who had access to the circles most 
eagerly sought after. 

" You know-1 was aware," the writer observes, 
" that my visit was in one sense badly timed. The two 
great theatres were closed; the opera, like a dying 
swan, was breathing out its last music ; the Royal 
Exhibition was shut, and the British Gallery on the 
point of shutting ; the Houses of Parliament were pro- 
rogued ; the gay world were all out of town ; the King 
was gone to Windsor; the royal brothers scattered 
abroad; and, in short, all the grand objects of attrac- 
tion rendered impervious or unattainable. But there 
was still much to see and enjoy ; and having set my 
heart more on men than places — the cabinet riches 
rather than the 'public treasures of this mighty mart — 
I seized the first opportunity of accompanying my 

friend B , and thereby procuring a cicerone of the 

utmost importance to me. Without such a friend, a 
man may indeed pay his money, and gaze at a spec- 
tacle ; but the numerous questions which rise to his 
lips, and involve not only his curiosity, but much of 
his satisfaction, must inevitably remain unanswered; for 
in London all men are strangers to each other who are 
not personally introduced. In our easier intercourse, 
the morning or evening salutation suffices in the walk 
or the tavern to open general conversation, and discuss 
topics of public interest; but this happy confidence 



52 LIFE AND LITERARY REMAINS OF 

cannot exist in large cities, where neither suavity of 
manners, nor extent of information, insures us from 
meeting in their possessors principles of character the 
most dangerous and malignant. Of course it is very 
difficult to mix in good society. Even houses of 
public entertainment preserve their own coteries invi- 
olate; and those literary and professional parties it was 
my great object to visit— those clubs which Addison 
and Steele, and since them Smollett and Boswell, ren- 
dered so interesting, I found, on inquiring, as inac- 
cessible, save through the medium of one of their own 
body as an introducer. An intruder is everywhere a 
forbidden guest, before whose unhallowed presence wit 
is dumb, or else it descends in such vollies as to drive 
him away in no very enviable train of feelings, — a 
circumstance which, however mortifying to a wander- 
ing admirer of genius like myself, certainly cannot be 
deemed reprehensible; especially at a period when, 
despite all care, the public press abounds with private 
anecdote, and the natural modesty of the English cha- 
racter is wounded by the notoriety given to the most 
insignificant trifles respecting those who are in any 
way remarkable." 

The first visit was to the gallery of West's 
paintings in Newman Street ; and one comment 
confirms a remark of my own at the commence- 
ment of this chapter, — 

" ' This is the street for painters,' continued my 



BARBARA HOFLAND. 53 

friendly guide, ' and I saw some moving about who are 
not its inhabitants. That smart, good-looking gentle- 
man who has just entered the house above (Mr. 
Thompson's, K.A.) is himself an R.A, — Mr. Shee,* 
whose Rhymes on Art will send him down to posterity 
as a poet also. Nature has been in every way liberal 
to him — for he not only writes well, but talks well, — a 
power often denied to the sons of the lyre.' I ob- 
served, ' that although poetry and painting were not 
only sister arts, but might even be termed twin* 
sisters, yet I believed they were seldom united in the 
same person. Mr. Shee was the only exception I knew 
of.' * Yes,' replied he, ' Mr. Westall has written some 
very pretty, classical poems, though he is seldom re- 
cognized as a poet. Northcote, too, if not a rhymer, 
is an elegant writer, and is considered the very cle- 
verest man in conversation now alive, whether for 
lively repartee, interesting anecdote, or general in- 
formation'." 

These little sketches will show that Mrs. Hof- 
land had an intimate acquaintance with the world 
of genius in which she lived, though it might be 
gained in some measure only through the " loop- 
holes of retreat"; but I shall now present another, 



* The present Sir Martin Archer Shee, President of the 
Royal Academy. 



54 LIFE AND LITERARY REMAINS OF 

and a larger picture from her hand, which will 
show this still more forcibly: — 

" The very evening that I despatched my last, my 
kind friend took me to a private party at the house of 
a young painter and his sister, who are both profes- 
sional, and justly receive a large portion of public 
favour — Mr. and Miss H r. 

"We went early, and were ushered into a noble draw- 
ing-room, ornamented with numerous pictures, busts, 
and casts, which, together with numerous musical instru- 
ments and stands for flowers, gave to it a character 
indicative of intellectual elegance. We took a station, 
half concealed by a mighty Jupiter and a Grecian lamp, 
whence each person was pointed out to me ; — in large 
parties, particular introduction being no longer in- 
sisted on, a ceremony of course needless, and often 
annoying. 

" i That open, pleasant-looking youth, who has just 
entered, is no less a person than Edwin L — d — r, who 
burst on the world three or four years ago, as the first 
animal painter this country has produced — you rnust 
know him', said my friend. A few minutes made us 
quite familiar ; and I know not whether most to ad- 
mire the extent of that talent, which is not more won- 
derful in its precocity, than its continued improvement; 
or that simplicity and unaffected good-humour, so con- 
spicuous in his artless yet gentlemanly manners. You 
may judge of my feelings towards this young man, 



BARBARA HOFLAND. 55 

when I say, I wished him the husband of my darling 
sister. Whilst engaged with him, the room filled, 

and L , jogging me, said, 'Look around you, here 

are three beauties, and three female authors, already, 
and you see nothing.' 

" He was wrong : I had already seen some pretty- 
looking young women, one of whom I admired ; but 
it is certain I had seen many equally handsome, and 
not less elegant, at home ; and I therefore eagerly 
inquired, ' Who were the other ladies ?' Not, I con- 
fess, without a little dread of blue-stockingism, which 
even curiosity could not dissipate. 

" 6 That tall, good-looking lady, who is pleading a 
bad cold as an excuse for a very neat becoming dress, 

is Miss A , whose work on Education has been so 

highly spoken of. She is a very superior woman ; but, 

I confess, a little awful to a young man. Miss K , 

who wrote the Favourite of Nature, and Osmund, is 
just sitting down; you may see in her manner, and 
even in the simplicity of her dress, how perfectly she 
is devoid of all affectation of superiority : — by and bye 
H — t — r shall introduce us ; in the meantime, as Mrs. 
Hofland is coming to our end of the room, I will name 
you to her. In reading her Tales, you are already in 
a great measure acquainted with her ; she is what in 
the North you call 6 a chattering, kind-hearted body.' 

" Mrs. Hofland was suffering from the tooth-ache, 
so that she was not able to fulfil the former part of her 



56 LIFE AND LITERARY REMAINS OF 

character on my first accosting her ; but gave proof of 
the second, as the evening advanced, by speaking of 
our neighbourhood, not only with admiration, but 
affection. Indeed, she is an immediate descendant 
from ' Canny Cumberland', as the form of her face 
evinces, in those high cheek-bones, which distinguish 
us all. Learning, from our young hostess, that she 
was intimate with Miss Mitford, the author of the last 
new tragedy ('Julian), I did not fail to inquire after a 
lady who has essayed, and in a very great measure 
effected, that most difficult of all tasks, and proved, at 
least, a superiority of dramatic dialogue, of the most 
decisive character. Mrs. Holland was much pleased, 
I may venture to assert, by my remarks on her friend's 
talents ; and assured me, that a tragedy called The 
Foscari, although not esteemed so highly as Julian, 
was, in her opinion, much the better production ; and 
she appeared to have little doubt that its performance 
next season would crown Miss Mitford with still 
brighter laurels. 

" Through this lady's introduction, I have enjoyed 
the high pleasure of meeting a large party of literary 

men at a breakfast given by Mr. , the original 

projector and editor of The Retrospective Review, a 
quarterly work, which I perceive you are not ignorant 
of in the North. It is published for the express pur- 
pose of redeeming from oblivion works of merit ; 
which, being shut up in libraries, or become scarce 



BARBARA HOFLAND. 57 

and dear, for want of reprinting, are likely to be 
lost to the next generation, being nearly so to the 
present. These are well described and most ably com- 
mented upon ; and such extensive extracts given, as 
greatly to increase the literary riches of our day ; in 
short, it is an admirably conducted work, and what is 
better (as the world goes), a cheap one. I had con- 
cluded that this gentleman, as a scholar of Trinity 
College, and, moreover, a barrister and black-letter 
reader, could not fail to carry some years on his back, 
and still more on his countenance, which I depicted in 
my own mind as thoughtful, even to repulsiveness. 
Judge then my surprise at seeing a slight, elegant, 
fashion able -looking man, about three or four and 
twenty! whose countenance, indeed, bespoke reflection, 
and whose complexion ' told of the midnight lamp', 
but were very distinct from any idea I had entertained. 

Barry Cornwall (Mr. P ), he who charmed us so 

much two years since, and whose last work will con- 
tinue the spell, was present: a gentle, modest man, 
evidently struggling with ill health, and all that train 
of nervous affections which tell the son of genius so 

often, ' to remember he is mortal.' Mr. T , author 

of Tales by a Country Curate, I found to be my right- 
hand neighbour : he is remarkably handsome, and has 
moved much in fashionable life ; but on the death of 
his father, and a great reverse of fortune, stepped into 
his present station (which is that his work assumes), 



58 LIFE AND LITERARY REMAINS OF 

with a modest dignity and cheerfulness becoming his 
profession. His work has had amazing success. A 

Mr. B , of Cambridge, a writer of distinguished 

talents in the Retrospective and other periodical works, 
was on my left ; and I found every other person pre- 
sent was in the learned professions, save a young officer, 
Captain Si~ n, whose work on the gymnastic exer- 
cises of Germany I will forward to you. He has just 
returned from the continent, and furnished us with much 
information on subjects connected with his tour, in an- 
swer to many inquiries ; such matters being of peculiar 
interest, I apprehend, to studious men, who are doomed, 
in general, to travel in their libraries. The state of 
the public press, especially in its periodical literature, 
was fully and ably discussed. Different opinions had 
place amongst us ; but I observed that a reference to 
our entertainer decided points where knowledge was 
concerned ; yet in offering an opinion, or adducing a 
reason, '■ he spoke, though sure, with seeming diffi- 
dence', and gave information the most useful, and the 
fruits of research the most laborious, with the easy, 
unassuming, charity of him, ' whose left-hand knoweth 
not what his right-hand doeth'. 

" In short, our entertainment (which, by the way, 
was an excellent dejeune), afforded food for thought 
and agreeable reflection, on which a man's mind may 
live a long time. There was a mixture of the sportive- 
ness of youth, the sallies of genius, the peculiarities 



BARBARA HOFLAND. 59 

which attach, I apprehend, to college life, and the 
fashions which can only be obtained in high and po- 
lished society ; together with that exercise of the re- 
flective faculties, attached to literary characters, which 
rendered it altogether a scene of the most extraordi- 
nary interest to a young man of my description, and 
can never fail to recall the donor of so much gratifica- 
tion most gratefully to my memory. 

" I left my first, kind entertainers — abruptly, you 
will say — true, but not unthankfully. The evening 
then being devoted to music, I had no opportunity for 
conversation farther ; but you will perceive this was 
the germ for which I am indebted for all that may 
follow. Mrs. Holland introduced me to her husband, 
in whose painting-room 1 have passed many delightful 
hours." 

It was not unnatural that our authoress should 
introduce herself in such a sketch, and the modest 
allusions to her own character and capacity, only 
serve to exalt her in one's estimation. 

In subsequent letters of the same series, she 
gave sketches of some of the literary clubs of the 
day which the stranger was described to have 
visited — places which were, twenty years ago, the 
haunts of those who have been distinguished as 
" gentlemen of the press" — a term, as she explains, 
applied to the numerous editors and reporters of the 



60 LIFE AND LITERARY REMAINS OF 

daily papers, who were generally associated in their 
revels with magazine and dramatic writers, re- 
viewers, often also with young barristers, and with 
artists occasionally. 

" These parties," Mrs. Hofland observes, " have 
extraordinary attractions, from the new and extensive 
information to be obtained in them, and the ability 
displayed by a number of men whose powers, whatever 
they may be, are always ready for the occasion ; since 
it is evident that a constant use of our faculties, though 
it denies the study necessary for profound acquire- 
ments, gives facility in arrangement of idea, and bril- 
liance of expression. The jarring opinions, the pithy 
arguments, the sparkling replies, the good-fellowship 
of paper opponents, the quarrels of staunch allies on 
the same arena, — the truths elicited from such colli- 
sion, the test to which talent and pretence are sub- 
jected, in such a field of ordeal ; form altogether 
' metal so attractive', that one would suppose all the 
world would be found crowding and jostling to get into 
such places, and that pleasure would be lost in the 
eagerness to secure it. 

" This is not the case ; these parties, though large 
enough for the play of intellect, amusement, and 
joviality, are sufficiently concentrated for comfort, and 
even snugness. Any extension of the circle is slowly 
admitted by men who meet there as at home, not only 
for recreation but for rest; and who have been too 



BARBARA HOFLAND. 61 

much occupied with public business to care for public 
applause. They seek only to be appreciated by those 
whom they appreciate; and if any were inclined to seek 
the applause of ' stupid starers,' he would soon be 
brought back to^the ' regular course' by the keen 
whippers-in, by whom he is surrounded; and who 
always have the power to make the conceited and 
restive wince." 

She, then, after giving an account of two or 
three introductions at one of these clubs, proceeds 
to describe a scene there, which no doubt was one 
of actual occurrence. There were present Henry 
Neele, the poet, — of whose melancholy fate more 
will be said hereafter ; Linton, the painter ; Nu- 
gent, the political writer ; Hofland himself; and 
several other men of mark and likelihood : — 

" Scarcely had we sate down, when a serious charge, 
for some misdemeanour committed the evening before, 
was preferred against N le and L — - n, the land- 
scape painter ; N — g — t, the general president of the 
room, acting as j udge ; and after a long examination 
of witnesses, and hearing counsel on both sides, the 
delinquents were fully convicted and each sentenced 
to pay a bowl of punch, to be drank by the company. 
During this trial, great acumen, much wit, and consi- 
derable powers of oratory were displayed. My con- 
ductor was himself an advocate of no common powers; 



62 LIFE AND LITERARY REMAINS OF 

but much as I was amused by them all, I must say that 

N 1 (who is the leading man of the leading journal) 

far surpassed them all, and was indeed well fitted for 
the high office he assumed. His general appearance 
is insignificant, although his person is neat and well 
formed ; but his countenance indicates talent and pe- 
netration, and his eloquence and wit really outstripped 
all I had previously conceived possible. The happy 
turn of his periods, the richness of his imagination, 
the fluency of his words, were not more striking than 
the evidence he gave of deep thought and observation; 
and the practice of " looking quite through the ways of 
men,' which attendance in the courts of law have given 
him. His experience added to his genius, gave a 
weight and importance to his words, and demanded 
that full accordance of the judgment, even in the deci- 
sion of a jest, which gives gratification to the mind. 
He is indeed a most extraordinary person, and by those 
who know him well, not less esteemed for his libe- 
rality and candour, than admired for his wonderful 
abilities. 

" As the punch circulated, the graver business of the 
night gave way to sportive sallies, brilliant repartee, 
short, smart argument, and lively anecdote, intermixed 
with many excellent songs, of which several were com- 
posed by different members of the party. Our con- 
victs were both great punsters, and took their revenge 
by the free use of their favourite weapon. It must be 



BARBARA HOFLAND. 63 

confessed the poet handled his arms much better than 
the painter ; but the latter sung the best song in the 
company, and I was told had the credit of being its 
best scholar also. The evening was certainly one 
never to be forgotten ; and I can only regret that its 
very brilliancy prevents me from retailing oratory 
which charmed, and replies which electrified me." 

The publication of these letters, containing, as 
they did, revelations which, perhaps, ought not to 
have been made — certainly not so undisguisedly, 
and so immediately after the occurrences — became 
a source of great annoyance to Mrs. Hofland. 
The comparative obscurity, and contracted circu- 
lation of the magazine in which the articles ori- 
ginally appeared, might have prevented her from 
becoming known as the writer, but they were 
copied into publications of greater pretension, and 
wider range, and there meeting the eyes of the 
parties concerned, inquiry was instituted, and the 
author discovered. Her vexation was aggravated 
by her own name having been for some reason or 
other printed in full, instead of with only the 
initial and ending letters. Of this, she complained 
bitterly in her letters to me at the time. 

" I am very sorry, and indeed much vexed," she 
says, " that they have filled up my name, wherever it 
occurs, instead of putting it in the same way as the 



64 LIFE AND LITERARY REMAINS OF 

rest. There is a publicity in this which is extremely- 
painful to me, because it looks like arrogance, and is 
particularly mortifying to me just now, as, contrary to 
my wishes, but, in compliance it seems with custom, I 
have been obliged to give my portrait to La Belle 
Assemblee. To single me out — the one woman who is 
the most retired, and retiring, person in the whole 
fraternity of public characters, was in itself very ill- 
judged, and a certain mortification ; to say nothing of 
its being a liberty with the text no printer ever took 
with mine before. Although I can have no objection 
to my name appearing professionally, the detail of 
private conduct is quite a different thing ; and what 
most troubles me is, making me different to other 
people, when it has been for years the great object of 
my life to pass as undistinguished as the nature of my 
avocations permitted, and to prove myself sensible that 
I had no pretensions save to utility." 

She afterwards spoke of it as a " source of great 
pain and blame to her," and as making her " re- 
gret exceedingly that she ever undertook"" these 
letters. And no doubt she had great cause. She 
raised a hornet's nest about her ears ; and one of 
the most stinging of her persecutors was not im- 
probably her husband himself. 

We have seen that Mrs. Hofland described her- 
self as a " chattering, kind-hearted body"; and 
certainly she was both, — " chattering", however, 



BARBARA HOFLAND. 65 

not in the vulgar sense of the phrase, but as sig- 
nifying a great though a good talker. " The first 
ingredient in conversation," says Sir W. Temple, 
" is truth ; the next, good sense ; the third, good- 
humour ; and the fourth, wit." All these qualities 
she largely possessed. She was also a good lis- 
tener ; and hence, probably, she derived much of 
the store of information and anecdote which gave 
so much value and interest to her own con- 
versation. 

(< Would you both please and be instructed too, 
Watch well the rage of shining to subdue ; 
Hear every man upon his fay'rite theme, 
And ever be more knowing than you seem, 
The lowest genius will afford some light, 
Or give a hint that had escap'd your sight." 

Such was her habit ; — with her, indeed, it was 
a virtue, and one that not unfrequently required 
self-denial for its exercise. But she " both pleased, 
and w T as instructed too" ; and the consciousness of 
this made amends for all the inconveniences it 
might cost. 

With her " kind-heartedness" every one was 
impressed who came in contact with her, whether 
as a passing acquaintance, or an intimate friend. 
But of this, more hereafter. In the meantime it 
may not be out of place to shew her correct view 

5 



66 LIFE AND LITERARY REMAINS OF 

of the exercise of the conversational powers, under 
her own hand. The following original essay she 
entitled 

THE ART OF CONVERSATION. 

Madame de Stael, in her Germany, asserts that 
" conversation as a talent exists in France alone ; in 
all other countries it answers the purposes of polite- 
ness, of argument, or of friendly intercourse." I 
apprehend there is much truth in this assertion, made 
by one whose powers of judgment and observation are 
unquestionable ; but I am not the less persuaded that 
conversation in this country might with due pains be 
rendered equally charming, and more advantageous 
than it is in the best circles of Paris. There can be 
no doubt, I apprehend, that the possession of that in- 
formation and reflection, which furnish the staple 
commodity on which such powers should be exercised, 
lies as much in our hands as in those of our lively 
neighbours ; nor is there any deficiency of that wit to 
which they have laid an exclusive claim ; it is there- 
fore worth our while to look into our capabilities, and 
ascertain the value of our endowments. 

Taking it for granted that the pleasures of conver- 
sation are among the most pure and intellectual we can 
enjoy, and that they afford the means of contributing 
effectually to the welfare of all we hold most dear ; it 
is almost surprising that in a country so highly po- 



BARBARA HOFLAND. 67 

lished, and where the inhabitants are alike intelligent 
by nature and cultivated by education, so little pro- 
gress should have been made. This is the more to be 
lamented, because it is certain that, as a people endued 
with great sensibility and much knowledge, lively ima- 
gination and copious language, we may be said to 
possess the means of eloquence ; and it is worthy of 
remark that in every respect wherein the French have 
a right to claim that superiority they generally affect, 
it is precisely in those points which are least connected 
with the qualities required for this companionable art. 
They excel us as natural philosophers and mathema- 
ticians, but as poets and painters are decidedly our 
inferiors ; and it is therefore natural to conclude that 
if we could conquer the mauvaise honte which restrains 
our faculties, and obtain the fluency of speech neces- 
sary for developing our ideas, the play of fancy, the 
collision of humour, and the intercourse of friend- 
ship and sentiment, would be found in higher perfec- 
tion round the fireside of an English gentleman, than 
in the most brilliant conversations ot a Parisian circle. 
I was once informed by a very sensible mother, 
who was of the Society of Friends, that in their com- 
munity " conversation was regularly studied amongst 
the young, as a succedaneum for those public amuse- 
ments denied by the religious tenets of their fathers" ; 
and I am inclined to think that their females, at 
least, possess it in a considerable degree. Forbidden 



68 LIFE AND LITERARY REMAINS OF 

to study music (at least instrumental), they must have 
much time in which to improve their minds ; and pro- 
verbial for their love of visiting, they cannot fail to 
find a, necessity for mental exercise of a more profitable 
and interesting nature than that which occupies young 
women whose walk in life offers a greater variety of 
employment, and whose vanity is stimulated to seek 
distinction through many different channels. Yet 
surely, were the matter fairly investigated, we should 
all be inclined to think that there is not one accom- 
plishment that would prove so truly valuable to the 
possessor, as the art of revealing the knowledge she 
may happen to possess, or the feelings which may 
actuate her, in that modest, lively, or pathetic lan- 
guage, which circumstances may call for. If our 
women cultivated their powers of conversation, they 
would not only be rendered the companions of the 
men, but in a short time be imperceptibly their im- 
provers also,— so far as related to the graces, — as the 
daughters of a family would communicate elegance to 
the sons, whilst they obtained information. Nothing 
can in my opinion be more lamentable than to see 
half-a-dozen fine young women, on whose education 
there has been bestowed as much money as would have 
portioned a German princess, and who have probably 
devoted the spring-tide, the very blossom of existence, 
to unceasing study, either sit in company like so many 
statues, or engage in a giggling, whispering conversa- 



BARBARA HOFLAND. 69 

tion, on some subject too frivolous to be owned. A 
foreigner concludes in such a case that these fair dam- 
sels are " of outward form elaborate, of inward less 
exact"; but this is not the case, for their attainments 
if examined would decidedly prove that they possessed 
the highest attributes of mind, investigation and per- 
severance ; but it is a fact that they have never prac- 
tised the interchange of thought — they are sensible of 
deficiency, and this sense renders them more fearful of 
entering into any subject of conversation than girls 
who are in many respects far inferior to them. A 
young woman of this description, when she has ceased 
to charm us at her harp, or amuse us by her portfolio, 
relapses into an automaton ; but this must be consi- 
dered as arising from circumstances, and by no means 
indicating either incapacity or an unsocial disposition; 
but is a want which ought to be supplied by the care 
and skill of friendship as speedily as possible. 

Gibbon mentions the existence at Lausanne of va- 
rious little clubs of young people, who met at each 
other's houses for the purpose of conversation, and who 
thus, without affecting learning, increased knowledge, 
and elicited that mental improvement which inevitably 
arises from the distribution of information, natural to 
the young and happy. If something of this description 
obtained amongst us, it could scarcely fail to be at- 
tended with the most beneficial consequences ; the na- 
tural good sense, and extensive acquirements, of our 



70 LIFE AND LITERARY REMAINS OF 

young people, would be called into action ; the sound- 
ness of understanding, and tenderness of heart, which 
constitute the charm of wisdom, and the bond of social 
sympathy, would be duly exercised ; and advancing 
life could hardly fail to discover talents alike admirable 
and endearing. 

I have frequently observed that the inhabitants of 
the northern counties possess more vigour and ori- 
ginality of thinking, and generally express themselves 
more happily, than those of the south ; and, in any 
London circle, can point out pretty accurately the de- 
scendants of such families, in consequence of their 
superior intelligence and fluency. It is probable that 
this ability arises, in a great measure, from the ab- 
sence of public amusements, which, as in the case of 
the Quakers, compels them to the exercise of their 
faculties in the offices of good neighbourhood; but much 
of it may be imputed to the absence of those numerous 
objects of study, now pressed to an almost distressing 
extent on the minds of youth in the metropolis and 
other large cities. The spirit of emulation is strongly 
excited, but not always wisely directed, in large com- 
munities ; and hence those whom parental solicitude 
most anxiously seeks to push forward in life, by a 
superior display of elegant acquirements, are deprived 
of the very excellence which, of al] others, would ren- 
der them most attractive, and make them, in after life, 
the estimable and enlightened companions of their hus- 



BARBARA HOFLAND. 7 1 

bands, and the effective as well as judicious instructors 
of their children. 

Nothing can be further from my wishes than to see 
formal, conceited, affected young ladies, uttering blue- 
stocking laws in measured language ; discussing lite- 
rary or political subjects by argumentative dogmas, or 
long-winded sophistical deductions ; and rendering our 
parlours and drawing-rooms colloquial arenas or lec- 
ture-rooms. These are the errors of clever, but sin- 
gular women, who are frequently led into them by the 
absence of that general talent we desire to see dif- 
fused. As no one can sit with greater impatience than 
myself under the dictatorial preachings of petticoat 
censors, or the wearisome nothings of a mere chatterer; 
to say nothing of the whole tribe of hateful scandal- 
mongers ; — so no one could listen with more delight 
to the artless observation of a young original thinker — 
the native eloquence of a warm-hearted philanthropist 
— the sensible investigator of any new work, whether 
in art or literature. 

There never was a period when letter-writing had 
obtained so generally as at present ; and it is certain, 
that many young people now write letters, of which 
old ones might be justly proud, who could not repeat 
one of their own sentences in company without em- 
barrassment. It is, however, certain, that as it is a 
greater effort of mind to compose the sentence than to 
utter it, whenever the former is accomplished the 



72 LIFE AND LITERARY REMAINS OF 

latter may be ; and it is a duty which every person 
owes to himself to struggle against the timidity and 
confusion which prevents him from doing justice to 
his own conceptions, and adopt every means by which 
so desirable an end can be attained. The man of 
learning — the man of observation and experience — he 
who has seen man in many situations — who has tra- 
versed many countries ; or he who, in the regions of 
imagination, has attained poetic eminence of thought, 
and explored new worlds of mind ; whatever may be 
the attainments or faculties of individuals such as these, 
they are alike reduced to the common level, if we de- 
rive neither pleasure nor profit from their society. The 
heart, also, in all its rich variety of feelings, whether 
of generous friendship, resolute integrity, parental 
tenderness, genuine devotion, valiant ardour, honest 
indignation, or disinterested affection, is a sealed book 
which (generally speaking) the lips alone can open. 
Is it not, then, as much a duty as a privilege to culti- 
vate the power of simple, forcible, and even elegant 
expression, and to render our tongues the medium 
which God himself designed them ? 

In how many instances has domestic happiness been 
lost, because, when the charm of beauty and novelty 
was over, the husband found himself tied to a stupid 
or insipid companion ; or the wife found herself inca- 
pable of honouring him whom she had promised to 
obey ! How many have been beguiled by false tongues, 



BARBARA HOFLAND. 73 

who would have preferred true ones, had they been 
exerted for their sakes ? Let us, then, no longer slight 
an accomplishment which yields so much innocent 
pleasure, and is united so closely to all the best and 
strongest ties of existence ; which gives virtue in- 
creased powers, and life new blessings ; and, which 
unquestionably, we have the power of attaining, as de- 
cidedly as any persons in civilized life. Our literature 
in general — the senate — the Church — the humour and 
sentiment to be found in provincial life ; and the lighter 
chit-chat, or political disquisitions of the metropolis, 
all bespeak our actual powers, and call upon us to im- 
prove them. We are the possessors of mines of intel- 
lectual wealth, which it should be our happiness to 
raise and to distribute, since it is certainly our error 
and misfortune to withhold it. 

B. H. 



74 LIFE AND LITERARY REMAINS OF 



CHAPTEE IV. 

HENRY NEELE — HER WARM FRIENDSHIP FOR HIM HIS 

DISTRESSING DEATH — SHOCK TO THE HOFLANDS 

BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH OF THE DECEASED BY MRS. 

HOFLAND HER EPISTOLARY POWERS — THE LAKES OF 

CUMBERLAND — HER ADMIRATION OF THEIR SCENERY 

LINES TO THE CUMBERLAND ROCKS — HER ACCOUNT 

OF THE LAKES — A POETICAL TRIBUTE. 

The name of Henry Neele has already been men- 
tioned. He was a talented young author, whose 
works are still read with interest and profit. This 
is more particularly the case with his Romance of 
History, and his Lectures on English Poetry, — the 
first being dedicated, by permission, to his Majesty 
King George the Fourth, who was ever the friend 
and patron of literary merit. 

Mrs. Hofland had contracted a warm friendship 
for Henry Neele. He was one after her own 
heart, — highly gifted, yet humble, unaffected, re- 
tiring, — and, in the highest degree, kind, so- 
ciable, and affectionate. " His short life", says 






BARBARA HOFLAND. 75 

his biographer, " passed, indeed, almost without 
events ; it was one of those obscure and humble 
streams which have scarcely a name in the map of 
existence, and which the traveller passes without 
inquiring either its source or its direction. His 
retiring manners kept him comparatively unno- 
ticed and unknown, excepting by those with whom 
he was most intimate ; and from their grateful re- 
collection his memory will never be effaced. He 
was an excellent son, a tender brother, and a sin- 
cere friend. He was beloved most by those who 
knew him best; and at his death, left not one 
enemy in the world." 

Such was Henry Neele. Strange, that one so 
intellectual and so amiable — especially since both 
the powers of his mind, and the qualities of his 
heart were brought under the sobering, chasten- 
ing influences of religion — should fall by his own 
hand ! Yet so it was. An over- wrought imagi- 
nation made him its victim. " And thus, in the 
very spring of life", to quote the same authority as 
before, " with Fame and Fortune opening their 
brightest views before him, he perished under the 
attacks of a disease, from which no genius is a 
defence, and no talent a protection ; which has 
numbered amongst its victims some of the loftiest 
spirits of humanity, and blighted the proudest 



76 LIFE AND LITERARY REMAINS OF 

hopes that ever wakened the aspirings of ambi- 
tion — 

* Breasts, to whom all the strength of feeling given, 
Bear hearts electric, charg'd with fire from heaven, 
Black with the rude collision, inly torn, 
By clouds surrounded and on whirlwinds borne ; 
Driv'n o'er the lowering atmosphere, that nurs'd 
Thoughts which have turn'd to thunder, scorch and burst !" 

The shock of his death — and such a death ! — 
was keenly felt by the Hoflands, to whose quiet 
circle he was one of the most delighting; and en- 
dearing acquisitions. 

" The death of dear Neele", said Mrs. Hofland, 
in a letter to me immediately afterwards, " has 
been, to both Hofland and myself, a heart-break- 
ing shock. He was the last man of our acquaint- 
ance of whom we could have augured such a 
melancholy end; and knowing, as we did, the 
goodness of his principles, and the sweetness and 
equanimity of his temper, it gives me a humili- 
ating sense of the weakness of human nature, that 
comes home to one's own perceptions in a new 
and painful manner, in addition to the sense of his 
loss." 

She then favoured me with a short memoir of 
her departed friend, which I shall here present 
entire, as given in her letter. 






BARBARA HOFLAND. 77 



BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH OF MR. HENRY NEELE, 

BY AN INTIMATE FRIEND. 

Henry Neele was the son of an eminent letter-press 
engraver, many years settled in the Strand. He was 
brought up as a solicitor, and enjoyed a respectable share 
of business in that profession, up to the time of his 
death; being remarkable for his great regularity in the 
dispatch of all concerns committed to his care, and for 
the soundness and comprehensiveness of his views in 
cases committed to his examination. His poetical 
talents were developed very early, and first announced 
to the world by the celebrated Dr. Drake, who, in his 
Literary Hours, gave a very excellent critique on 
the small volume then collected, which was, I believe, 
written when he was about seventeen. He was wisely 
in no haste to follow up this volume, choosing rather 
to give his whole mind to the arduous profession he 
had chosen ; and some years, at least, had elapsed, 
when his Poems, Dramatic and Miscellaneous, ap- 
peared, and won for him so much applause, that he 
soon ventured a second volume. He engaged in period- 
ical works, and composed a course of Lectures on 
Poetry, which displayed extraordinary research, fine 
taste, sound judgment, and the most commanding elo- 
quence. They were delivered by him at the Russell 



78 LIFE AND LITERARY REMAINS OF 






Institution, and are now going to be published.* Soon 
after giving these lectures, he engaged to write the 
Romance of History, and being an excellent modern 
linguist, it was his intention to carry the work through 
all the countries of Europe. The high approbation 
this work obtained, proved his ruin. The publishers 
pressed him to engage immediately in a new series of 
the Romance of French History ; aud having made 
the agreement, with his usual zeal and punctuality he 
entered on the task at a time when his spirits were 
absolutely exhausted by past efforts. He had for many 
months risen at five in the morning, and written in his 
mother's house till nine ; he then went to his office, 
where he remained till eight, when he resumed his 
labours as an author till one or two. Nature at length 
could endure no more; about nine days before his 
death, he became confused, absorbed, deranged — then 
terrible ideas took possession of his mind —he said he 
had embezzled property, and should be transported, 
etc. During this time his mother became dangerously 
ill, and his family thought his peculiarities arose from 
this cause, when they noticed them, but in the greater 
distress they were commonly overlooked. Such was 
his situation, when the rash act of momentary phrenzy, 
caused, undoubtedly, by some new and agonizing idea, 



* The Lectures on English Poetry have since gone through 
several editions. 






BARBARA HOFLAND. 79 

plunged into eternity this truly amiable and estimable 
man. 

It appears from notes taken at the inquest, that his 
uncle (a respectable barrister) had seen his situation, 
and warned his family against leaving him alone, and 
that on the night when the fatal act was committed, he 
had tried in vain to read family prayers — being too 
much agitated to proceed. The situation of the family, 
in their anxiety for the life of their only surviving 
parent, accounts for both circumstances, and he was 
found by his sister the next morning with his throat 
cut, and, from the situation of the corpse, there is rea- 
son to believe the terrific deed had taken place imme- 
diately on his retiring to his room the night before. 

For several days previous to this horrible catas- 
trophe, Mr. Neele had been wandering about the streets 
of London, and was met the day before it occurred by 
two friends, w T ho remarked upon the wildness of his 
looks, and were astonished by the singularity of his 
manners ; but both were in haste, and neither compre- 
hended the cause, although they now recollect it, with 
a terrible conviction that help for his sad situation 
might have been administered. His clerk saw his 
state clearly, but delicacy, and hope that he would be 
better, kept him silent. This young man is incon- 
solable for his loss ; he told me, with bitter tears flow- 
ing, as he spoke : — " I have lived with Mr. Neele six 
years, and during that time, let the hurry of the hour 



80 LIFE AND LITERARY REMAINS OF 

be what it might, I can truly say I never received from 
him one unkind or hasty word." How much of good 
is comprehended in this simple testimony ! Within 
two years, poor Neele had suffered dreadfully from a 
complaint in his head, which threatened him with total 
blindness, and for many weeks actually deprived him 
of sight. This severe affliction he bore with the cou- 
rage .of a man, and the resignation of a Christian, and 
with returning health entered on his too numerous 
avocations with a cheerful gratitude to Heaven, which 
will be long remembered by his friends as a delightful 
and affecting trait of character, and one which proves 
that his mind was not lightly overthrown ; indeed they 
knew that he was a man of religious principles, and 
though undetermined as to opinion, never shrank from 
acknowledging his faith, and ascribing to it his hopes 
for the future, and his moral obligation in the present 
world. 

Continually employed as he was, it will be evident 
that he had as little time, as inclination, for the plea- 
sures and dissipation of the metropolis. He generally 
dined at six, in company with two or three friends 
whose pursuits resembled his own, and whose company 
was well calculated to give a zest to the social meal. 
With them he was full of playful badinage, lively ar- 
gument, or eloquent discourse ; but he always left them 
at eight, even when he was not pressed — as of late — 
with literary business ; and when he was visiting at 



BARBARA HOFLAND. 81 

the house of a friend, although he was the life of the 
party, and could not fail to enjoy the pleasure he in- 
spired with that gout which is peculiar to the man of 
genius, he was always the first to depart, being alike 
temperate in all his enjoyments. He united in a sin- 
gular degree that best quality of the mind, common 
sense, with that fine imagination and sparkling vivacity, 
we so frequently see opposed to it. In the sudden and 
unhappy overthrow of intellect under which he sank, 
unquestionably this brilliant imagination became the 
active source of suffering, and eventually the cause of 
death. 

In person, Mr. Neele was below the common size, 
having very short legs ; but when seated, his personal 
appearance was agreeable, his face full of sensibility, 
and the form of his head indicative of mental power. 
His manners were gentle, and somewhat reserved with 
strangers, but to his friends, frank and gay, though 
utterly incapable of all boisterous mirth. His fine 
practical perception of all that is most beautiful in 
nature, and endearing in the affections of humanity, 
was felt in his conversation, and even when he had 
been sporting the liveliest sallies of wit, he would utter 
sentiments of compassion, or make observations of a 
melancholy tendency, in a tone of such deep feeling, as 
to indicate a mind of singular construction, and intense 
sensibility of heart. 

How far these powers might be connected with the 

6 



82 LIFE AND LITERARY REMAINS OF 

disease which occasioned derangement and death, I 
have no means of judging. 'Tis enough to know, that 
" we are fearfully and wonderfully made," and that the 
most highly-endowed human being is called upon, even 
" for conscience sake," to guard his health from the 
effects of that excitement, which sleepless nights and 
anxious days never fail to produce. Towards all 
connected with him, Henry Neele was not only just, 
but generous ; he was the best of sons and brothers ; 
the kindest of friends ; the most considerate of cre- 
ditors ; and to the utmost of his power humane and 
charitable to his poor brethren ; but to himself, he was 
unmerciful, for he carried his honourable sense of 
punctuality to a fault : — but I dare not, I cannot con- 
demn him for an error arising through the very exer- 
cise of virtues rarely found in the present state of so- 
ciety, in which selfishness may be termed the easily 
besetting sin. 

Henry Neele was in his thirty-first year. His 
Romance of History is now* going into the second 
edition ; of the second series two tales are, I believe, 
finished, and he has also written one for the next year's 
Forget Me Not, of great ability, but of a mournful 
character. His great personal regard for Mr. Acker- 
mann induced him to interrupt his important work, in 
order to furnish this article. He had promised to 

* 1823. 



BARBARA HOFLAND. 83 

write a prologue for Miss Mitford's forthcoming tra- 
gedy, but I cannot learn that it has been found amongst 
his papers. His poetry will probably soon appear in 
a collected form, and be published in an uniform 
manner with his lectures, and it will then be seen that 
we have probably no records of one w T ho had done so 
much and so well, who died so soon, and was besides 
employed in pursuits so uncongenial, yet demanding 
all the energies of the mind. B. H. 

In a postscript to the foregoing letter, Mrs. Hof- 
land says : " I could not write this better, for it has 
cost me many tears." And, with the melancholy 
feelings still predominant, alluding to a promised 
visit to me in the neighbourhood of the Lakes, she 
remarks : — " But deeply impressed as I am with 
the incertitude of all human projects, I dare not 
say much about it." She cherished a most painful 
though affectionate remembrance of her ill-fated 
favourite to the end of her own more lengthened 
and less calamitous career. 

Of Mrs. Hofland's epistolary powers, some idea 
may be formed from what has just been given. 
Yet, strange to say, she did not correspond much. 
For twenty years she was in the habit of writing 
frequently to me ; but she has told me that I was 
almost the only one to whom she wrote long 
letters : — 



84 



LIFE AND LITERARY REMAINS OF 



" I know not when ever I wrote so long a letter ; 
for, indeed, I rarely write letters at all ; but I must be 
ungrateful, as well as unfriendly, if I did not feel the 
value of that continued kindness with which you have 
so long been pleased to regard me, and express it by 
the only mode of frank communication our distance 
permits. ... I had great pleasure in receiving your 
kind letters ; for it is certainly a gratification to find 
ourselves continue to be held in esteem by one who so 
warmly adopted me into the circle of his friends as you 
have done. I have by no means given up my intention 
of visiting the north, and have always reckoned on 
coming in my rounds to you and Mrs. R., of whose 
health and welfare I am glad to hear. My two last 
summers have been in a great measure devoted to the 
sick in my family, i. e., my son, and a near relative, 
whom I have each summer attended to the sea-side ; 
but I am in hopes next year may be more propitious. 
Time is advancing with me ; and although I am really 
more healthy and capable of exertion than I was in 
early life, yet I am aware that that which I mean to 
do, and earnestly wish to enjoy, should not be delayed. 
I have a near relative, you know, at Newcastle, whom 
I greatly desire to visit ; and I think of going from his 
house to Cumberland, returning home by Ripon, Shef- 
field, and Leicester. How far I shall be able to do 
this, I know not; for the farther we travel in life's 
journey, the more fully do we learn, that ' man pro- 
poseth, but God disposeth.' " 



BARBARA HOFLAND. 85 

Such were the friendly, familiar terms in which 
she was in the habit of addressing me, even amidst 
those pressing professional engagements from 
which she was seldom free. Her long promised 
visit to the north was not paid during my re- 
sidence there. But she was no stranger to that 
part of the kingdom ; indeed, she was connected 
with it by the ties of kindred — being descended 
by her mother's side from an old and much re- 
spected Cumberland family. In another letter, 
she says : — 

" I wish I could chat with you in person instead of 
on paper. But you are such a long, long way off. 
My heart flies to ' canny Cumberland' sometimes, un- 
til I have all the Swiss longings upon me, for its lakes 
and mountains, and its still dearer people ; but the 
strength demanded by so bad a traveller, and the 
money, and the necessity of some one being at home, 
press upon me, and I give it up." 

Of the picturesque scenery in that romantic 
region, it was to be expected that she should have 
a high appreciation, since it furnished subjects for 
some of the finest efforts of her husband's ge- 
nius as a landscape painter. He, in fact, was a 
" lake painter,"" as much as Wordsworth is a 
" lake poet." But the following little poem on 
some of its grandest features, was written and 



86 LIFE AND LITERARY REMAINS OF 



published long before Mrs. Hofland became ac- 
quainted with her second husband — it is one of 
the collection already alluded to as the u Poems of 
Barbara Hoole: — 



CUMBERLAND ROCKS. 

Scenes of magnificence ! your powerful charms, 
That burst stupendous on mine aching sight, 

Now thrill the trembling vein with wild alarms, 
Now wrap th' exulting soul in high delight ! 

From Alpine mountains gush the maddening streams, 
That sweep with snow-tipt wave the verdant vale, 

Catch with pellucid drops light's quivering beams, 
The gay foam sparkling in the gusty gale : — 

While on the hoary rocks, whose rugged breast 
Hath braved the pelting storms of many a year, 

Eve's brilliant sunbeams sink in lonely rest, 
And tinge the purple clouds that linger near. 

Sweet scenes of wonder, scenes of beauty cease ; 

Ye charm the eye — but can your powers impart 
The long-lost vision of returning peace, 

The long-lost raptures of a widow'd heart 1 

Ah ! no — in vain your mighty rocks arise, 

Your soft streams murmur in the pensive ear ; 

Like them my drooping heart more deeply sighs, 
Like them dissolves in many an anxious tear. 






BARBARA HOFLAND. 87 

But I have in my possession a description of 
Cumberland scenery cast in quite a different 
mould. It is in the form of a narrative of a tour 
among the principal lakes, and has so many points 
of interest about it, that I present it without 
further preface. 

THE LAKES OF CUMBERLAND AND WESTMORELAND. 

At a season of the year when all the world is in 
motion, and nature herself, in the rapid development 
of her powers, excites us to observe her progress under 
every form, we apprehend that our readers will pardon 
us for offering to their consideration the beautiful 
scenery of this favoured country, and invite them to a 
tour which has the singular felicity of being neither 
dangerous, difficult, expensive, nor tedious ; yet which 
presents a variety of scenery, and combinations of 
grandeur and beauty, which are not to be equalled in 
the same compass, or beheld with equal facilities any 
where in Eurcpe. 

If the Swiss traveller informs us that our mountains 
are mole-hills, and our lakes fish-ponds, compared to 
those he has beheld, we may yet boldly appeal to him 
whether our own are not more picturesque ? In fact, 
every painter allows this, and their works incontestably 
prove it ; for although we see numerous views which 
excite exclamations of surprise at the magnitude of a 



88 LIFE AND LITERARY REMAINS OF 

mountain, or the fall of a cataract, yet we seldom meet 
with such an assemblage as fills the mind by its sub- 
limity, or touches the heart by its concentrated beauty. 
All the objects are too extensive to produce these 
emotions ; the lakes in their magnificence redace the 
mountains, which in their turn retaliate this effect, — 
neither are brought sufficiently home to the eye for 
their peculiar beauties and relationship (with the grand 
characteristics of an extensive scene) to ba fully re- 
vealed ; — hence there are magnificent objects, but few 
picturesque views ; we gaze in wonder, but we seldom 
experience delight. 

On the contrary, every step in our own magic circle 
is calculated to awaken pleasures even to rapture, 
affording also sufficient stimulant in its bolder features 
to those emotions of terror and surprise, those raisings 
up of the soul to courage and endurance, which render 
danger and fatigue the handmaids of enjoyment. A 
tour to the Lakes, even under ail the accommodations 
offered by modern improvement, is a very distinct 
thing from a Cockney's drive to Brighton ; and that 
party who share the eye and the mind necessary for 
fully entering into the spirit of the journey, will find 
that they must use exertions unknown to him 

" The son of ease and leisure, 

Who in trim gardens takes his pleasure.' ' 

But " courage, mon ami" the lads of the north, and 



BARBARA HOFLAND. 89 

the lasses too (fair and gentle as they are) fear neither 
a rough road nor a mountain blast ; they are also en- 
dued with a sufficient portion of the amor patrice to 
render the beauties of their own country endearing to 
them as such ; and all are gifted with that wise curi- 
osity which is the proof of intellect and the germ of 
knowledge. Set out, therefore, and do as we have 
done ; for even the busiest may spare as much time, 
and the most frugal as much money, as was claimed by 
the little excursion which we will venture to describe. 

A newly married couple, and a brother and sister, 
occupying two gigs, and three young men on horse- 
back, constituted the party. We set out early in the 
morning, and reached Penrith to breakfast. 

I say nothing of the road to a place so well known ; 
but I may be allowed to observe that the first glance of 
its deep red and shining white houses, intermixed with 
green foliage, and semicircularly guarded by distant 
mountains, renders it an object of beauty and promise, 
as a kind of barrier town to the new kingdom we are 
entering. Whilst our ladies visited their friends (for 
who has not friends in that friendly town ?) and our 
horses enjoyed food and rest, the gentlemen climbed to 
the beacon on the neighbouring fell, saw the monu- 
ments in the churchyard and the ruins of the castle, 
and after an early dinner we all set out for Keswick. 

A few miles of the road now brought us into that 
mountainous district it was our object to explore. 



90 LIFE AND LITERARY REMAINS OF 

" The mountain nymph, sweet Liberty," hailed our 
coming, by the gentlest breeze that ever waved over 
heather, all the way from Penrith to Hutton Moor ; 
but just as we wound round the mighty Saddleback, 
and looked up with inquiring eyes, as if to trace the 
aerial soldiers, so singularly described by Mr. Lancaster 
about sixty years since, we saw his crater-like summit 
suddenly covered by rapidly descending clouds, and in 
a very few minutes, long gathering vollies of dense 
mist rolled down his mighty sides, and involved even 
us in his deep gloom, and big drops of rain began to 
descend with the precipitation peculiar to mountain 
storms. At this time, it is certain, we had all the 
grand features which belong to this description of 
scenery, nor could the highest Alps have afforded any- 
thing more sublime ; for the black clouds which hung 
on every mountain, the utter desolation of the view 
around, so far as it was pervious, presented only the 
wild, magnificent, and terrible outline, which imagi- 
nation might fill up with every horror. The pattering 
storm, however, compelled us to attend to real evils ; 
cloaks, and coats, and umbrellas, were hastily drawn 
from the carriages ; but we soon found the " spirit of 
the storm" not to be defeated by such paltry expedients : 
there was a howling and pouring importance in the 
wind and rain which for a short time impressed us with 
a sense of that impending destruction given by a violent 
storm at sea : and our sympathy for the female suf- 



BARBARA HOFLAND. 91 

ferers, in this rude attack of the elements, was drawn 
upon in a similar manner. Happily it was soon over, 
and the whole awful apparatus of " clouds and thick 
darkness " drew up like a mighty curtain sucked in by 
the upper regions, and the sun looked down upon us in 
his brightness, from a firmament of pure azure, 
shedding beams of light upon objects of such beauty 
that they appeared like a new world in the progress of 
resurrection. Streams of liquid silver ran leaping 
from cliff to cliff down the sides of the mountains ; 
myriads of gems sparkled on the green grass; point 
after point of the mighty amphitheatre of fells, before 
and around us, revealed their forms; the gentle 
bleating of the woolly tribe was succeeded by the song 
of birds, rising by degrees from the chirrup of recent 
distress to the full note of exultation. Under the 
sensations of delight thus produced, we descended to 
Keswick, with Derwentwater and Bassenthwaite before 
us, extended like two immense irregular mirrors. 

We saw the sun set from Castlerigg and rise on 
Skiddaw — made the usual circuit of the lakes — 
admired the falls of Lodore — sighed over the memory 
of Lord Derwentwater — took a flying peep at the 
Museum — and then set forward to Ambleside early in 
the evening. Nothing could exceed the beauty of St. 
John's vale, in its lovely union of sylvan simplicity 
and solitary magnificence ; and on emerging thence, 
our ride was scarcely less interesting on the banks of 



92 LIFE AND LITERARY REMAINS OF 

Leatheswater, under the broad shadow of the lofty 
Helvellyn. Grasmere succeeded, seen under the 
mild rays of a declining sun, — according with its own 
soft retiring character, shut up like the gardens of 
Eden from the profane gaze of the world. How softly 
did the blue and purple haze of the mountains contrast 
with the brilliant lake, the white cottages, and the 
tender green of the young foliage. But we must 
hasten forward. 

Ambleside is full of beauties. Every object around 
you has a character, and yet it is certain that tired and 
hungry travellers found the Salutation Inn, if not the 
loveliest, yet the most desired; in fact it is a very com- 
fortable house, and we soon became not only easy but 
merry, and rose from excellent beds the next morning 
with new powers. Whilst breakfast was preparing, 
we visited the beautiful cascade of the Groves, which 
so delighted us, that as time was precious, we did not 
go to Eydal, but procuring boats (after paying a visit 
to Mr. Green's rooms) we proceeded to the lake. 
The surrounding mountains were covered with mists, 
which by degrees rolled away in many a curling vo- 
lume; giving to all the objects within the range of the 
eye those beautiful varieties peculiar to the land of 
fells and lakes. As we proceeded the day cleared, and 
the smooth unbroken face of the water, the rural 
beauty of the banks, and the excellent sense of calm 
seclusion which characterizes this water, producing a 



BARBARA HOFLAND. 93 

stillness which may almost be felt, was experienced by 
us all, and enjoyed in that delicious serenity of spirits 
which converses rather by looks than words. I believe 
we all thought of Rousseau's description of his own 
sensations in such a situation ; but none of us spoke ; 
we were all too happy for talking. 

We stopped at the Station, where we stayed some 
time ; then walked down to the Sun, discharged our 
boats ; refreshed ourselves and our horses ; and re- 
sumed our journey (which was up-hill for several 
miles) on our way to Coniston. That part which led 
us on the banks of Esthwaite Water to Hawkshead 
was singularly beautiful; and, after it was passed, was 
frequently looked back upon with lingering admira- 
tion ; especially as the road became dreary and mono- 
tonous, until we drew near the lake, to which the bold 
black mountains that crown its head, had long held out 
to us a kind of frowning invitation. 

We reached the little inn, just in time to avoid 
another drenching from the rain, and to witness a 
thunder-storm in all its terrific glory. The bellowing 
echoes of the mountains, the vivid flashes of lightning, 
glancing on the broad expanse of water, now tossed 
violently by the wind, and foaming like a mimic sea 
up to the very windows where we sat ; the tremendous 
roaring of the elements, the perfect darkness, inter- 
rupted only by sheet or forked lightning, rendered the 
whole impressive beyond the power of description ; 



94 LIFE AND LITERARY REMAINS OF 






and in exercising our reasoning faculties, the devo- 
tional aspirings, and the affectionate sympathies of our 
little party, formed a tie of friendship, and touched a 
chord of sensibility, which will, probably, never be 
forgotten by any of us. 

The storm cleared ; the evening was lovely ; the 
moon shone on the clear lake, which gently subsided 
from its late angry bearing into the softest ripple. We 
walked on its banks till a late hour, then supped 
on unequalled char and mutton hams, in recovered 
spirits, and arranged our plans for the morrow; agree- 
ing in the conclusion that we had seen all which was 
best in Coniston-mere, since, with much beauty, it has 
little variety. 

A mountainous ride to Ambleside next morning 
gave us all a high relish for a solid breakfast; after 
which we set out for Patterdale. 

Like the poet Cumberland, we reached " the impe- 
rial lake of Patrick's dale" under the happiest ele- 
mental effects, and were convinced, that taken alto- 
gether, Ullswater was the most various and picturesque 
of all the lakes. We took one of Mrs. Dobson's boats, 
and spent nearly three hours on its pellucid bosom, 
sometimes gazing on its beautiful banks, sometimes 
looking on their reflections in the smooth surface over 
which we glided, which shewed us a world below, even 
more fair than the fair reality above. The house and 
gardens of the Rev. Mr. Askew, the heights of Sty- 



BARBARA HOFLAND. 95 

bray, and the village of Patterdale, with its little white 
church, can never be forgotten. 

The following morning we set out for Penrith, and 
saw on our way thither the whole of this enchanting 
mere, sometimes expanding into a majestic lake, at 
others assuming the character of a noble river. We 
visited the fine cascade called Airey-Force; loitered to 
observe Lyulph's Tower and Ewe Crag; and ventured 
to gaze some time at the fine seat of Halstead,* from 
which the grand bend of the lake, and its best scenes, 
must be very apparent. Slowly advancing, various 
houses, indicating the elegance of polished life, were 
seen; the little village of Watermillock came next, and 
then another elegant mansion. Dunmallett, a wood- 
crowned mountain, next appeared to close up the lake, 
which was soon hidden from our eyes. The road was 
yet enlivened by the beautiful mansion of Dalemain ;f 
soon after which we again reached Penrith, where we 
slept. The following day showed us all the beauties of 
Nunnery, and we reached home with great ease, 
having in six days made a tour which comprised all the 
most striking features of this enchanting country; and 
concentrated as much blameless pleasure as human 
beings could experience ; and which has the peculiar 



* The seat of the late John Marshall, Esq., formerly High 
Sheriff of Leeds. 
t The ancient family seat of the Hasells. 



96 LIFE AND LITERARY REMAINS OF 

happiness of leaving on the mind impressions which 
may enliven many a solitary hour, and perhaps soothe 
many a sorrowful reflection, and never can excite regret 
or repentance. B. H. 

Mrs. Hofland has also given expression to her 
thoughts and feelings on the region of the lakes, in 
some beautiful verses, which, although they have 
already adorned more than one collection of 
popular poetry, will yet bear transcribing here. 
The " steep ascent " she had climbed, Mell Fell, 
is a conical hill, formed of a curious conglome- 
ration, which rises a few miles from the banks of 
the lake of Ulles water. 

TO MISS MITFOKD. 

I send you mosses : — once they grew 

On lofty Mell-Fell's highest brow, 
They witness how I wish'd for you 

While gazing on the world below — 
A world so fair, and yet so rude, 

Your own sweet Blanche's wand'ring feet 
Ne'er gain'd a deeper solitude, 

Or found a more sublime retreat. 

The spirit of the mountain smiled, 

And as I trod the steep ascent, 
Fresh air and glowing beams beguiled 

The toilsome way ; and oft I bent, 



BARBARA HOFLAND. 

Half trembling, and with proud delight, 
To find myself advanced so high, 

That I had reached the envied height, 

Where the green mountain kiss'd the sky. 

The long clear lake before me spread — 

A crystal mirror, where enshrined, 
The cot, the copse, the hedge-bound mead, 

Deep in the wat'ry world reclined ; 
With such a soft reflected grace, 

As youth's more brilliant tints disclose, 
When we the mother's beauties trace 

In her first girl — her blooming Rose. 

I look'd o'er glens and dingles dank, 

Where many a streamlet glides unseen ; 
I gazed on many a glowing bank, 

Of golden furze and brackens green ; — 
There mountains piled on mountains rise, 

Of every form and every hue ; 
Here huge Helvellyn meets the skies, 

There frowning Skiddaw towers in view. 

And now the mighty circle round, 

A giant rampart strikes the sense, 
Within whose limits scenes are found 

Close to the sight, yet far, far hence ; 
And scarcely can the dazzled eye, 

Inebriate with its eager glance, 
Distinguish what it can descry 

Through such a vast and fair expanse. 



98 LIFE AND LITERARY REMAINS OF 

Yes ! there is Halstead's noble seat, 

Reposing like the dappled fawn, 
The blue lake winds around its feet, 

The dark oaks spot its emerald lawn : 
Beneath grey Stybraw's craggy brow 

(The mountain queen of Patrick's dale), 
Beams Askew's dwelling, sweetly low, 

The sheltered "lily -of the vale." 

But here is Rampsbeck's lovely dome ; 

The light smoke curling thro' the trees, 
Seems as if beckoning those who roam 

To rest them here in joyous ease; 
For ne'er was hospitable board 

More freely given, more freely spread, 
And ne'er was polish' d mind more stored 

Than his who welcomes at its head. 

My own dear home beneath my feet, 

Recalls the fond excursive flight ; 
Yet distant Penrith ! I must greet 

Thy turrets red, thy dwellings white ; 
For minds as pure, and hearts as warm, 

Within those social dwellings rest ; 
Thine kindled love, thine beauty's charm, 

And kindness to the stranger guest. 

The sun declines; we must return; — 
But ah, my giddy brain turns round ; 

I cannot hear the trickling burn, 
Nor dare I tread the slippery ground. 



BARBARA HOFLAND. 99 

My dear companion's arm my stay, 

She leads me trembling, falt'ring, blind, 

Unused to such adventurous way, 

Till the steep greensward path we find. 

Oh ! 'twas a wise and hardy wight, 

Of nerve untamed and sinews braced, 
That down the mountain's fearful height, 

This side-long pathway boldly traced ; 
The blood that warms my recreant veins, 

From the same source its being gain'd, 
But time, and sea, and southern plains, 

The mountaineer's bold drops have drain'd. 

Safe on the lower ground I stand, 

Exulting in the labour past — 
My sylvan prize is in my hand, 

Which, Mitford ! at your feet I cast ; 
Assured that e'en my humble lay 

That gentle bosom will not scorn, 
Though genius poiir'd the brilliant ray, 

That your own truthful works adorn. 

B. H, 



100 LIFE AND LITERARY REMAINS OF 



CHAPTEE V. 

THE REV. FREDERICK HOOLE THE OBJECT OF AFFEC- 
TIONATE, YET PAINFUL, SOLICITUDE WITH HIS 

MOTHER HIS LAST ILLNESS AND DEATH MRS. 

HOFLAND'S AFFECTING ACCOUNT OF IT HER CONSO- 
LATIONS HER DEEP BUT UNOSTENTATIOUS PIETY 

ILLUSTRATED IN AN ESSAY ON NOVEMBER, AND THE 
" FALL OF THE LEAF 5 '. 

Incidental mention has already been made of 
Mrs. Hofland's only son, Frederick Hoole. Having 
entered into the holy orders of the Church, he 
became, in a short time, curate of St. Andrew's, 
Holborn. He was a most zealous and exemplary 
divine; indeed, he was, in all respects, a son 
worthy of such a parent, and did credit to the 
careful training he had received at her hands. To 
her, he was ever most devoted and affectionate; 
and she, as might be expected, was dotingly 
fond of him. She frequently spoke of him to me 
with the warmest affection, and the most earnest 
solicitude. 






BARBARA HOFLAND. 101 

" My son, Mr. Hoole," she writes in one of her let- 
ters, "is a constant sufferer in his health, being in 
confirmed asthma. Nevertheless, he struggles with his 
disorder, so as to prove himself an indefatigable mi- 
nister of the Church in a large parish (St. Andrew's, 
Holborn). Being the under-curate there, he has 
something to do to make all ends meet; though his 
rector is liberal. But if ever human being was willing 
to spend and be spent, it is he ; so that is not felt by 
him as a trouble, save in the moment of pressure. 
You may recollect that — — 's bankruptcy not only 
deprived him of his fortune, but left him actually in 
debt, which alas ! must continue as long as I live." 

Again, writing to me from Richmond, she ob- 
serves : — 

" You will, I am certain, be glad to hear that my 
dear and worthy son, who is, you know, a curate in the 
City, has lately got a little addition to his income by 
being appointed joint-lecturer in the same church, 
which is a great comfort, as he previously was greatly 
pinched. It is the more gratifying, because it has 
proved that his previous labours were not in vain. It 
is the gift of the parish, who came forward in the 
handsomest manner to give this testimonial to his un- 
remitting zeal and kindness. On this occasion (which 
was a very great one) he came down to Richmond to 
spend a short day, the only holiday he has had for 
above a year ; indeed, he has not, I think, taken even 



102 LIFE AND LITERARY REMAINS OF 

a cup of tea with us in Newman Street during that 
time, as he never goes out of his parish, except upon 
business. But he has been more closely tied than he 
ought." 

And again : — 

" My son keeps struggling on — the greatest sufferer 
and the hardest labourer in this busy vineyard ; he is 
so attached to his duty in that terrible, poor, wicked, 
and populous parish, that I do really think he could 
not leave it ; yet he ought for his own sake to be in 
the country ; it is a source of great sorrow to me that 
he is not." 

But the time was at hand when all her anxieties 
and cares on his account were to cease. His dis- 
tressing complaint was aggravated by the severity 
of the course of duty to which he devoted himself, 
most willingly and conscientiously, knowing that 
of the souls committed to his charge, he must 
one day " give account". He lingered on, under 
painful and often alarming affection of the chest, 
receiving from his kind and anxious mother the 
utmost attention w^hich it was in her pow r er to 
bestow, until death relieved him from his suffer- 
ings, and her, whom it had cost many a pang to 
witness them, from her long-endured solicitude 
and apprehension. The following is her own most 
touching account of his last attack, and of the 
death-bed scene. 



BARBARA HOFLAND. 103 

6, Pembroke Square, Kensington, 
July 9, 1833. 

Accept my sincere thanks, dear Mr. Ramsay, for 
your truly kind letter. I do believe you did indeed feel 
for me, for you were aware how fondly a long-widowed 
mother must cling to her only offspring, and especially 
to one whose manhood was as endearing as his infancy, 
whose misfortunes gave him a more than common claim 
on a mother's tenderness, and who, from forming no 
marriage connexion, was bound as by tenfold cords to 
the only relation he had on earth. 

All these things did indeed make parting a bitter 
draught, but it was long foreseen, and by him long de- 
sired ; often has he said : — " Never labourer looked 
towards evening as anxiously as I do, mother ; for the 
hour of rest will indeed be sweet"; yet like many other 
consumptive patients, he did at times think he should 
get better, at a period when all hope was over. He 
had in the course of the last seven years lived through 
so many bad times that he concluded this also might be 
passed, and indeed so did many friends, and Mr. Hofland 
among the rest, but I did not ; from September his 
doom seemed sealed, yet he laboured on in all his ha- 
rassing duties to within seven weeks. The last time 
he was at church he read at the communion table, but 
found he could not go into the pulpit. Even after 
that, he still contrived to feel and think for his people 
and the schools. All the poor he knew (and they were 



104 LIFE AND LITERARY REMAINS OF 

a host) were on his mind, and their wants, spiritual 
and temporal, were considered and relieved through 
every medium open to him, and it was wonderful how 
so weak a man, harassed by incessant cough, weak- 
ened by severe pains in the breast, and who had been 
without sleep for months, contrived to do much for all, 
by writing, having committees, giving instruction to 
those who were engaged in public or private charities, 
&c. His great fear was that of becoming useless ; 
sometimes he would express fear of living to want 
bread, but he would hastily check himself, and add : — 
"But that is a trifle compared to the affliction of being 
wholly cast aside yet continuing to exist : surely my 
Heavenly Master will not call me to that? all else I 
can bear ; but His will be done in that also." 

On this point I always sought to reassure him, for I 
saw he was nearly worn out; but I believe he would 
have lived a good while longer if the cold had not set 
in so severely in March — he was sensible it would not 
be possible for him to live under such circumstances, 
and from the time he knew that I expected the change, 
no one ever lived who experienced more happiness in 
the hopes of a humble but confiding Christian. All 
his fears had been for me ; and he observed : " We 
had neither of us the power to talk of our parting 
without being too much affected, therefore of that we 
would not speak ;" but of his own removal, his faith, 
his deep solicitude as a minister of Christ, he spoke 



BARBARA HOFLAND. 105 

continually, in conversation with his beloved friend and 
fellow -curate, Mr. Riddell, who was unto him more than 
a brother, and who is now gone home to Berwick-on- 
Tweed. It pleased God to remove his pains twenty- 
four hours before the last, and his spirit rose as it were 
triumphantly from the pressure of the flesh, yet only 
the more sensible of the deep humility which becomes 
a creature about to enter the immediate presence of his 
God, and sensible of the bonds which cling to every 
heart. Perhaps no man ever felt friendship more 
warmly than Frederick Hoole ; those whom he loved 
had his whole heart, and the manner in which he now 
looked and spoke to the few he saw, will never be for- 
gotten by them. Hofland came to see him (as it hap- 
pened) on the last day of his life ; the pleasure he ex- 
pressed was wonderful, yet he then believed himself 
dying ; indeed he breathed his last in sleep a few mi- 
nutes after he went away, having within an hour 
prayed fervently for us all, after which he said : — " In 
one hour I may be with Jesus." 

I write to you out of a full heart, for I feel that you 
are an old friend, and will bear all the dear memorials 
of things sacred to some, though " foolishness" to 
others. 

At the time I lost him, I bore the stroke far better , 
than my husband, whose exceedingly bad health ren- 
dered him soon overpowered, and who had never be- 
lieved him likely to die at that time. I caught perhaps 



106 LIFE AND LITERARY REMAINS OF 

somewhat of his own spirit from his example, and felt 
that I could say, " Thy will, not mine, be done"; but 
that time has passed, and my heart feels more and 
more bereaved. I would not wish to have my poor 
afflicted one back again, to suffer and die — to be a 
harassed worn-out man, sickly in constitution, impo- 
verished, controlled by the unworthy, struggling with 
difficulties, suffering in body and anxious in mind — oh! 
no, it is far better, even in a worldly sense, that he 
should be at peace; but still I have lost my all. I 
have nothing to hope, nothing on which to rest for 
comfort : but there is one consolation — if life has lost 
its sweetness, it will not last long. Oh ! that I were as 
fit to quit it as he was, — but that I cannot hope for. 

It was a great misfortune to me that we left London 
at the very time when my son's declining health ren- 
dered me of tenfold value to him. Alas ! Holland was 
so ill for months that we were obliged to get out of 
town in November, and came to Kensington; my poor 
son never entered our present abode, for it was so 
great a difficulty even then to get through his duties, 
that he put off coming till fine weather. I generally 
got to see him twice a week, but sometimes only once; 
the last three weeks I was with him day and night, and 
his pleasure in my company was wonderful, — he would 
scarcely bear me out of sight ; he used to say : " Sit 
by me, dear mother, that I may look at you ; don't 
leave me now, our time is precious, you know." 






BARBARA HOFLAND. 107 

I shall always grieve that I was not longer with 
hiin, but so considerate was he for me, that I had 
almost a difficulty in obtaining leave to stay; he knew 
I was wanted at home by Mr. H., whose complaints 
were generally very painful, but who has derived great 
benefit from our present abode. 

We did think of coming into the north this summer 
for some time ; but H. gave it up, because he feared 
the return of his complaint, and thought he had better 
keep near home. . . . 

I have had many kind letters from Miss Edgeworth, 
Miss Mitford, Mr. Montgomery, and many others, as 
you may suppose ; for all who knew my son admired 
him for his active benevolence, and the very superior 
tone of his conversation. Indeed he was a man of 
wonderful knowledge, considering his years (thirty- 
four), and the way in which the last seven or eight had 
been occupied. Never was a minister more lamented 
than he is in his own parish, I may say by both poor 
and rich ; and by this time the rector knows what he 
has lost in such a curate. Mr. Hofland begs his kind 
regards to you and Mrs. Ramsay— pray render mine 
acceptable also ; I still hope to know you both person- 
ally, in addition to that knowledge of you which has 
already taught me to love and esteem you. 

Farewell, dear Sir ; unlike to me, may your children 
and children's children close your eyes, and bless your 
memory — nevertheless / can thank God most sincerely 



108 LIFE AND LITERARY REMAINS OF 

that I was permitted to perform the last offices for my 
son, seeing it was best for him, who deserved all I 
could do and far more. 

I am, dear Mr. Kamsay, 

Your faithful friend, 

Barbara Hofland. 

This was the outpouring of a devotedly affec- 
tionate heart, bereaved of its greatest earthly 
treasure, yet bowing with resignation to the will 
of Him who gave, and who had taken away, and 
whose name she still blessed. 

She long dwelt upon her son's memory with 
vivid, and often melancholy, though never with 
discontented, feeling. The following allusion to 
him I find in a letter received from her many 
months afterwards, along with one from Mr. 
Hofland : — 

Dear Mr. Ramsay, 
I cannot allow a letter to go to you, for whom I have 
such sincere respect, without a line from myself. I 
trust that you, and those most dear to you, continue 
well. Happily Mr. Hofland is wonderfully better since 
we came to live in the country, and my own health 
certainly less interrupted than it has been for years, 
which may be owing to my having less of that wearing 
anxiety for my precious son, which was, for some years, 
almost unceasing ; for he was never well, and always 



BARBARA HOFLAND. 109 

thought the asthma would take him off in a moment. 
It was a year on Sunday since he did his last duty at 
the church, when the last words he said were, " The 
God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ knoweth 
that I lie not." 

You will forgive me for recurring to him (who is 
always uppermost), for you have felt for me, and will 
feel for me. . . . 

Pray present me most kindly to Mrs. Ramsay, and 
with every good wish, believe me, my dear Sir, 

Your faithful friend, 

B. HOFLAND. 

6, Pembroke Square, Kensington, 
Feb. 4, 1834. 

It may be added, with reference to Mr. Hoole — 
as a proof that even a mother's affection and par- 
tiality had not overrated his excellence as a devoted 
minister of the Church — that the parishioners of 
St. Andrew's came forward with alacrity to pro- 
vide some suitable memorial of one they so much 
esteemed. A handsome monument was erected 
in the sacred edifice, testifying their appreciation 
of his worth, in these words : — 

" Here lie the remains of the Eev. Frederick Parker 
Hoole, who departed this life March 16th, 1833, 
aged 34 years. He was a man of superior in- 
tellect, inflexible integrity, active charity, and sincere 



110 LIFE AND LITERARY REMAINS OF 

piety. Tried by severe misfortune, and great bodily 
sufferings, he sustained the burden of life without a 
murmur, and resigned it thankfully, being full of faith 
and hope in his Redeemer.*'' 

Mr. Hoole was the author of Conversations on 
Evidences of Christianity, and School Examina- 
tions. 

The deep religious feeling evinced by Mrs. 
Hofland when smarting under the affliction, and 
awed by the presence of death, was no sudden and 
temporary excitement, but the habitual tone of her 
mind, though at other and ordinary times sobered, 
subdued, and always studious to avoid display. 
The description she gives of one of her own cha- 
racters, in her tale of Decision, w T ould apply closely 
to herself: — 

" With these lessons, which are only the outward 
adornments of the structure, it will be readily believed 
that such a woman never fails to inculcate the pure 
precepts of religious morality, the true heroism of self- 
renunciation, the wisdom of integrity, the dignity of 
self-control, and the necessity many situations in life 
present for acting with firmness, resolution, and per- 
severance. Her mind stored by observation, and 
mellowed by time, she yet seldom touches on the sub- 
ject without earnestly intreating her hearers to guard 
themselves from mistaking obstinacy of temper for 






BARBARA HOFLAND. Ill 

firmness of mind, — to remember, that in early life, 
submission and obedience are virtues more generally 
demanded than those of a sterner character, and that 
woman, through life, is generally called upon to prac- 
tise them. ' Yes/ she will add, ' woman, as an intel- 
lectual and accountable being, gifted with reason, and 
capable of exertion, the first guide of man's infancy, 
the general influencer of his youth, and the companion 
of his manhood, ought to be no stranger to the import- 
ance nor the practice of any virtue demanded by our 
common nature ; and, whether relatively or indivi- 
dually considered, cannot fail to find that her virtue 
and her happiness must depend on her decision.'" 

That Mrs. Hofland possessed all these virtues, 
her whole life and conduct bore indisputable evi- 
dence. She not only knew her duties, but prac- 
tised them. Of her, as of another of her own 
creations, which we find in her tale of Fortitude, 
it might be said: — " She felt at this period of her 
sad history, that it would have been sweet to die, 
sweet to quit for ever that which she had indeed 
found to be a world of trouble, and throw herself, 
in humble hope and perfect resignation, on the mer- 
cies of her Eedeemer, who was Himself made flesh 
that He might be touched with the infirmities of 
frail and suffering humanity. But when, in hap- 
pier moments, she allowed reason to predominate 



112 LIFE AND LITERARY REMAINS OF 

over feeling, she saw clearly that a principle of 
vitality was still strong in her frame, which though 
delicate was healthy, that the path of duty was 
that of useful, and even yet (to a certain degree) 
happy existence. He who had said, 6 1 will not 
break the bruised reed,"' could yet render her again 
that which she had been. . . . Surely, whatever 
might be her own erring wishes, she had not c so 
learned Christ,"' as to shrink from the cup it was 
the will of her Heavenly Father that she should 
drink/' 

The influence of such feelings was ever pre- 
sent with her, and was always yielded to, with 
earnestness, though with moderation. Perhaps 
in none of her writings has she given expression 
to them more quietly, yet forcibly, than in the 
following Essay, which has come into my hands, 
and which will be read, I doubt not, with both 
pleasure and profit by those who can appreciate 
the solemn realities of this mortal state of exist- 
ence in its relation to another and an eternal life: — 

NOVEMBER. 

"Farewell to November !" said I, on the last day of 
that gloomy month, with a sensation of pleasure which 
was certainly ungrateful ; for the November of the 
present year has been less gloomy than many of his 






BARBARA HOFLAND. 1 1 3 

predecessors ; he has neither pierced us with cold, 
deluged us with rain, nor covered us with fogs ; but, 
on the whole, brought us gently forward to that season 
which, though it may be expected to bring us more 
severity, is yet associated with cheerful ideas. These 
ideas arise less to the reflective mind from conceiving 
that December brings us to the end of the year, and 
its wintry horrors, than from the recollection that it 
presents us with the commemoration of that holy festi- 
val which opens to our view a heavenly, an everlasting 
summer. 

Indeed, contemplate the season of the year in what 
light we may, it will never quit the mind, without 
forcing upon us a comparison which, however fre- 
quently repeated, can never be deemed " stale or un- 
profitable". We compare our lives with the season ; 
the falling leaf to the decaying frame ; and every 
gloomy day and sighing wind, bring home to us the 
conviction, that the winter of age is either now placing 
his blighting hand on our head, or those of our 
beloved parents, or protecting friends. Even when 
health and activity are still spared, symptoms like the 
russet grass, and yellowing foliage, thrust themselves 
perforce on our attention ; the whitening locks, the 
lisping speech, the serious or fixed look, which tells 
that the days of dimples and laughter are gone by, all 
remind us that the autumn of life is upon us, or before 
us, and that winter and death are at the door. 

8 



114 LIFE AND LITERARY REMAINS OF 

This consideration is awful and affecting, but not 
necessarily appalling, or even alarming. The young 
are not called upon to deem it the day they should 
tremble to meet, nor the declining that under which 
they are authorized to shrink. We have heard many 
declare, " that they actually found it the happiest 
period of their existence" ; and it is certainly that to 
which we all look as the period of rest from toil, of 
enjoyment and improvement from leisure, and the 
cultivation of those affections which best solace the 
cares, and add sweetness to the comforts of life. He 
who has with difficulty struggled to maintain or 
aggrandize his family, looks to the hour when his 
children's children shall play around him and be to him 
objects of delight, which, in the days of their father's 
infancy, he was too busy to enjoy. Every man expects, 
naturally and justly, if conscious that he has merited 
them, " the observances," the troops of friends, "the 
stability of property," the well-earned quiet or im- 
portant activity, which " should accompany old age" ; 
and therefore such a state, even if interspersed with 
" the ills which flesh is heir to," yet by no means 
justifies repining discontent under it, or unmanly 
fears of its arrival. Grey hairs are honourable, and 
we may add endearing too, since we ever find affection, 
as well as esteem, accompany the regard which the 
good grandfather and the kind master excites, whilst 
he holds his own place in society and assumes his own 



BARBARA HOFLAND. 115 

rank there : it is only when he deserts himself that he 
is deserted by others. 

The comforts of old age itself have been wisely and 
beautifully pourt rayed in a little work by the late 
Sir Thomas Barnard, which every person, young or 
old, should have near him, as a sacred and heart- 
reviving cordial, which we are authorized to taste in 
every moment of melancholy. This period may be 
indeed termed the December of life ; and being the one 
when winter is fully established, his power positively 
defined, and his end clearly descried, it is, we appre- 
hend, less oppressive to the spirits than the years 
which preceded it, with their constant changes, and 
more sensible gradations. Besides, the senses, the 
faculties, and the affections, are to a certain degree 
blunted, impaired, or weaned, in even the happiest old 
age, by an evidently merciful arrangement in the 
nature of man ; who thus feels the losses which now 
increase upon him less in proportion to his own 
strength to bear them. Whereas in the autumn of 
life, sensibility is equally poignant, or in many cases 
more so, than in the morning of life, with that hope and 
buoyancy which are then its unfailing accompaniments. 

Happy then are they, who, on stepping into this 
season of gloom and solicitude, fix their steady and 
grateful eye on that glorious subject of contemplation, 
and source of hope, presented to us at the close of the 
natural year. The birth of the Saviour, " who came 



116 LIFE AND LITERARY REMAINS OF 

to bring life and immortality to light," duly and 
deeply considered, as the Mediator between God and 
man, is indeed a sufficient argument against those 
sinkings of the soul, or startlings from impending fate, 
which naturally pervade all who are sensible of an 
immediate approach to the confines of existence. The 
vain parade of a cold philosophy, the unsubstantial 
promises of physical fortitude, and habitual reasoning, 
are seen and felt to give way continually, in men of 
the highest pretensions and minds of the most dignified 
powers ; but it may be truly said — 



" Faith builds a bridge across the gulf of death, 
And lands us safely on the further shore." 



The hopes, the privileges, even the sorrows of a 
Christian, as such, all tend to bestow solid comfort on 
the sincere and humble ; and such they will inevitably 
become who study the volume of divine revelation in 
a spirit of prayer, since every page bears the im- 
pression w r hich reproves his sins, reveals the weakness 
of his nature, and eventually leads him to the great 
Physician. Let, then, the lately busy, ambitious man, 
who is sensible that with his long- sought riches and 
leisure, is arrived also the painful sense that life is 
waning fast, that the days are approaching in which 
" his soul shall say I have no pleasure in them" ; let 
him look earnestly and diligently for that knowledge 
which fadeth not with the year or the life — for that 






BARBARA HOFLAND. 117 

treasure which shall sustain him in the moments when 
nature sinks, and neither skill can restore, nor 
affection console him. The Psalmist prayed wisely 
(and naturally in our opinion) that " he might recover 
his strength before he went hence, and was no more 
seen" ; and in the days when we are descending the 
hill, to obtain the light and strength which may support 
us when we actually approach "the valley of the 
shadow of death," is indeed a blessing — it is to carry 
our lamp trimmed and shining when we go forth to 
meet the bridegroom — to beautify infirmity and dignify 
death, by that wedding garment which admits us to 
eternal happiness. 

B. H. 



118 LIFE AND LITERARY REMAINS OF 



CHAPTER VI. 

MRS. HOFLAND AND THE WORLD OF LETTERS — HER 

SELECT CIRCLE LETTERS RELATIVE THERETO 

HER GENEROSITY AND CHARITY TOWARDS SISTER 
POETS BROTHER POETS SHEFFIELD AND ITS POETS. 

Notwithstanding the generally quiet, and often 
secluded course of her life, Mrs. Hofland always 
appeared to be well-informed upon everything 
which w r as passing in the busy world around her, 
and especially in that department of it which she 
regarded with the Greatest interest — the world of 
letters and of art. Her society, it is true, was 
much sought by those who had it in their power 
to administer to the pleasure which she derived 
from this source ; and select though that private 
circle was, to which she in a great measure con- 
fined herself for several years, she found that it 
furnished her with all she wished to know or to en- 
joy, either of the world of London, or the world at 
large. The following letter — of which the month 



BARBARA HOFLAND. 119 

but not the year is given — will shew how much 
she enjoyed society of that kind, and how great, 
yet how gentle, were her powers of observation. 

2, Ormond Row, Richmond. 
September 10th. 

Dear Mr. Ramsay, — I cannot allow Mr. Holland 
to visit Cumberland without writing a few lines to 
you, who have always been so kind and attentive to 
me. I have been, and am still, you will see, at Rich- 
mond, where my health has received great benefit. 
Livers in London must have change of air, or we 
never could get on at all 

I have, since I came here, formed an acquaintance 
with Miss Mary Anne Browne, whose poems you have 
seen in the Literary Gazette and elsewhere. She is the 
most extraordinary instance of precocious talent I have 
ever heard of ; and along with it, is a most engaging, 
simple, unaffected girl ; yet so full of animation, as to 
give you a lively idea, in every word she utters, of the 
Italian Improvisatrice, having, indeed, much the per- 
son, as well as mind, of that country : pretty, but dark, 
with black hair and hazel eyes. Her father told me 
"she talked perfectly well at sixteen months old" ; of 
any time when she could not read she has scarcely a 
recollection ; she learnt when she was about two years 
old. At five some one (they were fools, by the bye) 
gave her the Paradise Lost, which she read with 
avidity, but became so terrified and interested by the 



] 20 LIFE AND LITERARY REMAINS OF 

Satan, that her sleep was haunted, and her mind ha- 
rassed so as to injure her health. At this time she 
wrote verses, though she had not learned to join her 
letters in writing ; her father has some curious speci- 
mens of this faculty in her copy-books. At twelve, 
her first long poem, Ada, was written, but not pub- 
lished till she was fourteen, when it appeared with 
several things better than it; they all are beautiful 
and polished, indicating extensive reading, pure taste, 
and poetic conception. She is, I understand, a good 
classical scholar, and it is certain she is a modest, 
amiable, affectionate daughter and sister, not a bit 
spoiled by the praise she has elicited. She is now 
seventeen. 

We have had Miss Jewsbury in London, and most 
wonderfully has she been admired and run after (con- 
sidering how much talent is afloat in the world) ; she 
might have been a beauty as well as a wit, from the 
incense offered by the men, who, generally speaking, 
crowd around the pretty one in preference to the clever 
one, to begin with, at least ; but she is a fine young- 
woman, with a very intellectual countenance. On her 
arrival it was evident she considered herself tres dis- 
tingue, and looked down on us poor creatures in town, 
as mites on our own mole hill ; but by degrees this 
idea gave place to a better, and she became very agree- 
able even to women. She is a very superior-minded 
person, and, in my opinion, has by no means reached 






BARBARA HOFLAND. 121 

her own power as a writer of stories, good as her Three 
Histories are generally deemed ; and she is a beautiful 
writer of verses. 

Previous to our 'seeing her, Mr. and Mrs. H 

were in town; they are "Friends", you know, and both 
very sweet writers in the annuals, and both good and 
agreeable. He has not any thing of the Quaker in his 
personal appearance, but she is so, decidedly, yet with 
an air of ease and gentility, of just sufficient fashion 
to banish stiffness. None of these common-place 
terms, however, ought to enter one's vocabulary in 

speaking of so sweet a creature as Mary H . She 

has all the simplicity of a child, the enthusiasm of a 
poet, and the quiet good sense of a wife and mother ; 
whilst true Christian piety throws over all her lively 
manners and conversation a kind of veil, that softens 
and beautifies that which is already engaging, I shall 
always regret that I saw so little of her ; she was one 
evening at Mrs. Hall's when I met her, and the next 
day she came to see me for one hour ; it was the day of 
her departure. 

No person has attracted so much attention in London 
as Mr. R - the portrait painter. It is his misfor- 
tune that, though young, handsome, clever, and an 
Irishman, he is absolutely too modest. Timidity 
operates in every thing, his powers as a painter are 
often injured by it ; but he will nevertheless be a very 
great one. 



122 LIFE AND LITERARY REMAINS OF 

And now, dear Mr. Ramsay, farewell. Pray make 
my kind regards to Mrs. Ramsay (whom I picture in 

my mind as a good deal like Mary H ). "Write to 

me when you can, and believe me, with every good wish, 
Your faithful friend and servant, 

B. Hofland. 

It must strike every reader of Mrs. Holland's 
letters, how free they are from that idle and often 
mischievous gossip, which is apt to pervade the 
most friendly correspondence, more particularly 
when the characters and attainments of individuals 
are discussed. She uses no reserve in doing this: 
there is the utmost freedom of thought, and plain- 
ness of expression ; but not a hint, or an idea that 
is spiteful, or even disparaging; — all is generosity 
and charity. Poets have been described as " the 
jealous, waspish, w 7 rong-headed, rhyming race."" 
But assuredly our poetess was not one of these. 
In the letter just given, she speaks of three sister 
poets, all of them competitors in the race for 
literary favour, or, at any rate, rivals in the pro- 
fession of authorship ; yet not one word, not one 
thought, is indulged, of slight or envy ; all is kind, 
benevolent, and liberal. One gifted lady here 
mentioned — Mrs. S. C. Hall, with whom Mrs. 
Hofland lived on terms of the closest friendship 



BARBARA HOFLAND. 123 

for many years, bears glowing and truthful testi- 
mony to her amiable character in that respect. 
" At one time/' Mrs. Hall observes, " when in her 
literary capacity she had the power of thwarting 
those whom a less generous mind might have con- 
sidered rivals in the race of fame, her pen was 
ever first and freest in supporting the feeble, and 
bringing forward obscure merit. This, perhaps, 
a less honest critic would have done ; but Mrs. 
Hofland did more. She paid an eager tribute to, 
and aided to augment, the reputation of those 
whose fame was eclipsing her own — the true test 
of a noble mind. I once observed this to her ; 
and what was her reply ? e Ay, may be so ; I 
have had my day, and my sun will set all the hap- 
pier, from a knowledge that a brighter and better 
will rise on the morrow/ " 

But from writers of her own sex, let us turn 
to brother poets. Her native town, as we have 
seen, was " classic Sheffield", and poetry had 
gained it that appellation : for it had a band of 
poets peculiarly its own, with one of whom — the 
gifted and estimable James Montgomery — Mrs. 
Hofland was upon terms of warm friendship, and 
whose genius and piety she ever held in the high- 
est reverence. 



124 LIFE AND LITERARY REMAINS OF 

" Kindness by secret sympathy is tied, 
For noble souls by nature are allied." 



And so it was in this case. The respect, the 
affection, were reciprocal. Mrs. Holland has re- 
corded her sentiments of him as a poet and as a 
man, so forcibly and so justly, in the following 
original paper, that I shall insert it in this place 
without further preamble :— 



. 



SHEFFIELD AND ITS POETS. 






" After all, the bard of Sheffield is a man of considerable 
genius." — Byron. 

Whoever has resided even a short time in any part 
of the environs of this,* the most rapidly increasing 
town perhaps in His Majesty's dominions, will acknow- 
ledge that they do not know a more beautiful country. 
Its fine inequalities of hill and dale, richly wooded, and 
watered alike by rivers and lucid springs ; its horizons 
of high heath-covered moors, and mountainous ridges, 
are singularly fine on every side of Sheffield ; and the 
town itself, with its handsome churches, and obelisk- 
looking chimneys, is the most picturesque place I am 

* It appears from the last census, that Sheffield has 
nearly trebled its number of inhabitants in the present 
century. 



BARBARA HOFLAND. 125 

acquainted with on a Sunday. Beyond that day of 
rest it can be but little seen at all ; but spreads over 
the hilly ground on which it lies, a broad mass of 
black vapour, beneath which we are apt to wonder 
that human beings can exist. It is yet certain that 
the " bane and antidote are both before us," since its 
smoke is the cause of its wealth and population ; and 
every well-wisher to the place must deprecate the hour 
when the air is clear, and the streets free from coal 
dust ; when the sound of heavy hammers, and the 
tinkling of iron bars, is heard no longer in the land. 

It is well known that those sons of Vulcan who con- 
stitute the main bulk of Sheffield, have a great pre- 
dilection for hammering out new constitutions on the 
anvil of liberty, or at least battering to pieces old ones, 
which must be allowed to be an easier occupation. Of 
course the elective franchise was received as an inesti- 
mable gift among them, and has already conferred on 
several the honour of dying in their country's cause, 
and inspired others with the property our great mo- 
ralist liked, of being "good haters"; for that quality 
which was wont to render burgesses of rotten boroughs 
the keen and malicious partizans of blue, or orange, 
ribbons, from generation to generation, is leavening 
society here also. Alas ! how will it multiply the woes 
of many a luckless Eomeo, and many a lovely Juliet, 
who will have to rue the day when their unfeeling 
fathers, in their passion for making Members of their 



123 LIFE AND LITERARY REMAINS OF 

town, forgot the gentler passions of members of their 
family : — ah ! how often will it prove " a plague on 
both your houses". 

Most happily, there is a strong counterbalancing 
spirit in the town of Sheffield to all that is violent and 
malignant, in its widely-pervading religious principles, 
and consequent moral habits ; otherwise, the political 
mania would be scarcely more endurable than the 
flames of its furnaces, for although acute and intel- 
ligent, capable of reading and of conversing on what 
they read, the lower orders of Sheffield are not there- 
fore conceding or amiable. If ever " a little learning 
is dangerous", it is so to the manners, since it very 
frequently adds more to self-importance than know- 
ledge : peculiarly valuable therefore to such men, and 
to those who must associate with them, is that instruc- 
tion which teaches us, along with higher duties, to " be 
courteous" and meek. 

Sheffield has a few historic recollections of great 
interest : — hither came Wolsey, a broken-hearted man, 
to eat, as it afterwards proved, his last supper ; and 
here long resided Mary of Scotland as a prisoner, her 
time being divided between Sheffield Castle, which 
stood where the principal inn now stands, and the 
Manor House, a beautiful country seat of the Earl of 
Shrewsbury's, of which a tower, where she often sate, 
is still standing. It overlooks a tract of country so 
beautiful, that one cannot fail to think it must have 



BARBARA HOFLAND. 127 

enhanced the pains of captivity to gaze on so wide and 
fair a scene, nor can we doubt that many a hope, 
awakened but to be destroyed, must have visited the 
bosom of that unhappy queen whilst confined within so 
fair, yet apparently so fragile, a prison. 

Had Sheffield boasted such poets as now grace its 
dark dwellings, and throw a lustre on its cloudy at- 
mosphere, how much most thrillingly interesting might 
they not have transmitted to us of the workings of her 
powerful mind ? As widow, wife, and mother — as 
woman, peerless in beauty — as % sovereign, bereft of a 
crown, yet still capable of enchaining all hearts, — what 
agonizing recollections, what self-sustaining consola- 
tions, from time to time, must have risen upon her 
bosom— and who more fitted to breathe her musings 
than he who has told us : — 

" I gave my harp to sorrow's hand, 
And she has ruled its chords so long, 
They will not move at my command, 
They only tremble to her song." 

Most happily this is no longer the case. Montgomery 
is now not only a poet in full possession of fame, and 
commanding the most extensive circle of readers* that 

* Mr. Montgomery's works are read universally in what 
is called the "religious world", which refuses its suffrage 
to many other poets ; and they are not the less circulated 
among more general readers. 



128 LIFE AND LITERARY REMAINS OF 

an j poet can boast, but he is justly appreciated as a 
good man, of extraordinary capabilities, by his towns- 
men and the country at large. Nature, as if seconding 
the tardy justice of man in redeeming the past, has 
rendered him the very youngest man of his years ever 
beheld, for had he not been known to the world as a 
poet thirty years, we really think he might at this very 
time pass for thirty, such is the slightness of his figure, 
the elasticity of his step, the smoothness of his fair 
brow, the mobility and playfulness of his features, 
when in conversation. This circumstance, it is true, 
makes a great difference — the lighting-up of Mont- 
gomery's eye in those moments when he is warmed by 
his subject, or induced to smile by others, is absolutely 
electrical. Unfortunately this beautiful adjunct to his 
eloquence is rarely enjoyed by those who are so for- 
tunate as to attend his lectures, in consequence of that 
habit of looking down induced by his naturally modest 
and retiring mind, at all times reluctant in disclosing 
its treasured stores of knowledge, or communicating 
the discoveries of its genius. 

I was unfortunate in the period of my visit to Shef- 
field, it being that of the conference of the Wesleyan 
Methodists, in consequence of which there was a great 
influx of strangers connected with that body, and as 
every one either calls on the great poet, or in some 
way angles for his company, who consider themselves 
more particularly entitled to the claim of Christian 



BARBARA HOFLAND. 129 

brotherhood, no wonder that at such a time he was 
half-killed with engagements and harassed with ho- 
mage — to this were added charity bazaars, public meet- 
ings on bills in parliament, and petitions from the 
Church — all of which rendered him the busiest of the 
busy, transforming the gentle poet into the'public man, 
— so much the more must my heart thank him for the 
dear and valuable hour which he bestowed on me. 

Whether the exclusives of Sheffield (whom I under- 
stand to be a most unapproachable body) court the 
society of the bard, I know not, but it is at least certain 
he will not court them. With the world, as to its 
gauds and luxuries, he has nothing to do ; but with its 
sorrows, ignorance, and want, he is continually en- 
gaged ; and when Sir Eobert Peel, to his own im- 
mortal honour, marked the sense himself and his coun- 
trymen entertained of Montgomery's merit, he only 
added to his power of benefiting his fellow-creatures, 
for of personal indulgence in expenditure he has un- 
questionably no idea. 

But I must speak of Sheffield's latest wonder, the 
author of " Corn Law Khyrues"; and well does he 
merit attention, for surely his muse has proved, 

" That Denham's strength and Waller's sweetness join" 

in every poem he has produced, although it must be 
allowed that he is a very unequal writer. Indeed to 
whom will not the charge apply? For boldness of 

9 



130 LIFE AND LITERARY REMAINS OF 

conception, strength and grandeur of language, and not 
less for true pathos, and all those tendernesses which 
belong to the best affections of the heart, he stands 
nearly alone, perhaps wholly so ! It is at least certain 
Burns never equalled him, and Byron never exceeded 
him, in th6se particular qualities wherein both have 
been deemed admirable : it is not less true that his 
violence of opinion degenerates into coarseness of ex- 
pression ; and that either from rapidity in composition, 
or deficiency in taste (a circumstance perfectly com- 
patible with the most brilliant genius), he has scarcely 
given us one poem so perfect as he might have done. 
The exquisite delicacy and finished beauty of his de- 
scriptions are such as to indispose the mind for bearing 
these contrasts, and perhaps, like Cowley, many readers 
might find, — 

" He more had pleas'd them, had he pleased them less." 






For myself, T am willing and thankful to take him as 
he is — gems like his are welcome, be they mixed as they 
may. Who that has read his description of the preacher 
on the banks of the Eivelin — of the country through 
which that river wanders — of Mary's angelic beauty as 
given by Bothwell in his prison— even the " Wonders 
of the Lane" and various other poems published in the 
New Monthly Magazine, can hesitate to pronounce him 
impassioned, yet gentle — powerful in sentiment, and 
harmonious in numbers. 



BARBARA HOFLAND* 131 

Very false ideas have gone forth in the world re- 
specting the education and situation of Mr. Elliott; the 
lovers of the wonderful having chosen to describe him 
as being devoid of the former, and very low in the 
latter. They are, happily for himself and his con- 
nexions, entirely wrong ; he was as well educated as 
other sons of tradesmen were, and are, in general in 
that part of the country which he inhabits, and he has 
been long in possession of an excellent business which 
he attends to with diligence and prosecutes with spirit; 
so that although the father of a large family of sons, he 
is well able to support them all, and further their 
views in life in the manner a truly affectionate father 
and most attached husband would desire. His business 
is carried on in the town, but his dwelling-house is one 
of the prettiest suburban villas in the neighbourhood, 
surrounded by a large and beautiful garden, of which 
he is very fond, and where doubtless his mind fre- 
quently broods over " those sweet and bitter fancies" 
which emanate in his poetry. 

Mr. Elliott's countenance bespeaks deep thought and 
an enthusiastic temperament — his overhanging brow is 
stern to awfulness, but the lower part of his face indi- 
cates mildness and benevolence, and his voice is gentle, 
yet full and sonorous. Undoubtedly he speaks well in 
public, for he has great command of words, and abun- 
dant imagery, to aid his rapid and eloquent delivery; 
but I am told that in the intenseness of his prejudices, 



132 LIFE AND LITERARY REMAINS OF 

he becomes so subject to violent denunciation and 
groundless abuse, as to deteriorate the effect of his de- 
clamations surprisingly. 

In mixed company he is calm and agreeable, and in 
those moments when a tete-a-tete was practicable, I 
found his conversation profoundly interesting, for he 
was suffering as a father about to lose a dear and pro- 
mising, but long-declining, son. It is a remarkable 
fact, and one that speaks volumes for the domestic cha- 
racter of this poet, that none of his seven sons could be 
induced to leave the paternal mansion until lately that 
one has become a student at Cambridge ; since then he 
has determined to go into the Church, to which his 
father does not object, severely as he reprobates priests 
and nobles in general. 

Would that some benevolent fairy could charm down 
the political asperities, the undiscriminating zeal, of a 
heart betrayed even by its benevolence into false con- 
clusions and unmerited anger — so would the kindlier 
feelings of his nature be as apparent to the world as 
they evidently are to those near connexions who can 
appreciate them most justly. 

Besides these planets, Sheffield boasts other stars, of 
no ordinary lustre in the hemisphere of poesy. Mr. 
Rhodes, the author of " Peak Scenery", in his young 
days, wrote a tragedy, and several short poems of great 
merit. Mr. Holland, the author of the " Hopes of 
Matrimony", " Sheffield Park", etc., is well known to 



BARBARA HOFLAND. 133 

the public, and highly estimated. Mr. Heaton the 
barrister (also a Sheffield man), published a very 
pleasing volume of poems ; and Miss Roberts has re- 
peatedly proved her right to high consideration. In- 
deed there has long been a vein of Parnassan ore 
worked in this district. About a century since, Caw- 
thorne (a native) published a small but in many 
respects elegant volume of poetry, and Hoole, the 
translator of Tasso and Metastasio, though born in 
Moor-fields, as being immediately descended from a 
family long settled in a village appertaining to Shef- 
field, has a right to be considered one of its worthies. 

Of its prose writers none have attained much ce- 
lebrity, save Mr. Rhodes in the above-named work, and 
Mr. Samuel Bailey in various highly esteemed ones 
ranking him with our first authors ; if we except that 
truly useful and long widely diffused book, Buchan's 
Domestic Medicine, which was written by the doctor in 
the house where Mr. Montgomery has always re- 
sided. 

To these distinctions on the part of a town sneer- 
ingly denominated " classic Sheffield" in the satirical 
and regretted poem of Lord Byron, we may add the 
remarkable circumstance of its possessing two sculptors 
now in the Royal Academy. Every one knows that 
Sir Francis Chantrey was born in this neighbourhood, 
and brought up in a town justly proud of him; but 
Charles Rossi, Esq., the son of a surgeon in Sheffield, 






134 LIFE AND LITERARY REMAINS OF 

being a man much more advanced in life, is less fre- 
quently recollected by his townsmen. In the person 
of Mr. Edward Law, a young artist of great promise, 
it is probable that similar honours will be continued — 
a circumstance the more remarkable because Sheffield 
has done less to encourage the fine arts than many 
places of inferior wealth and importance. 

Mr. Eamsay, an excellent portrait painter, and Mr. 
Sylvester (the truly great experimental philosopher), 
were also Sheffield men, but like the great sculptor, 
sought fame and fortune in a more genial soil — prophets 
here (as elsewhere) finding little honour in their own 
country. 

On the whole, Sheffield may be termed a very ad- 
mirable place, for it lies in the midst of a country fair 
and fruitful as the Garden of Eden, is blest with a 
salubrious air, notwithstanding the smoke, and enjoys 
all the good things of life at a very moderate expense. 
The nature of its trade happily prevents the accumu- 
lation of those overgrown fortunes we find in many 
commercial towns, whilst it diffuses wealth in due pro- 
portion to the employer of capital and the workmen he 
employs. This due reward of industry is diffused most 
happily through the country also, the husbandman here 
generally receiving, I found, half-a-crown or three 
shillings a day, with luncheon'; whereas, in the south 
and much of the west of England, our half-starved 



BARBARA HOFLAND. 135 

peasantry, with high rents and scanty fuel, enjoy 
scarcely half this remuneration for equal toil.* 

The various schools for the education of the humbler 
classes are admirably managed, the parochial affairs 
well and generously conducted, and the various mi- 
nisters of religion most happily united in their endea- 
vours to do good through every possible medium. The 
town possesses an extensive library, a noble infirmary, 
a beautiful music hall, a well arranged museum (under 
the keepership of Mr. Holland the poet), a Mechanics' 
Institution, and Horticultural Society, and publishes 
three well edited weekly papers. Were it not for the 
aristocratical spirit (not persons) which turns many of 
the young and pretty out of their assembly rooms, and 
the radical spirit which seeks to turn out everything 
everywhere, it would unquestionably be a jewel of a 
place, albeit shrouded, like the morn of Milton, in a 
" comely cloud". 

But " pride was not made for man 5 ', nor " perfec- 
tion" for scenes where " man doth congregate" to the 



* In this neighbourhood the arrival of Irish labourers is 
hailed as a blessing, whereas in many places it is deplored 
as a curse. These wanderers in search of work and food, 
associate in one narrow street, inhabited by their country- 
men ; and it is only justice to add, that although huddled 
together in considerable numbers, their conduct here is quiet, 
honest, and orderly. 






136 LIFE AND LITERARY REMAINS OF 

amount of a hundred thousand : when these, with all 
their arts and industry, their political bickerings and 
steady friendships, their wealth and their misfortunes, 
are gone down to the dust, and the place they now 
occupy in honour and happiness shall " know them no 
more", yet shall they not descend like those who have 
preceded them to oblivion. No ! as contemporaries of 
Montgomery and Elliott — as those who have perhaps 
for many years " walked in the house of God as 
friends" with the former, and gazed in admiration 
at the comet-like glories of the latter, they will share 
(at due distance) the fame which after ages will inevit- 
ably grant to both. 



•e 

■ 



BARBARA HOFLAND. 137 



CHAPTER VII. 

MRS. HOFLAND'S ATTACHMENT TO ART — HER HIGH OPI- 
NION OF HER HUSBAND'S PICTURES NOT APPRECI- 
ATED BY HIM — HIS VISITS TO THE GREAT — "A 

HUSBAND'S WELCOME HOME" HER QUALIFICATIONS 

FOR JUDGING OF ART — HER INTEREST IN ARTISTS 

BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH OF ONE — A ROMANCE IN 
REAL LIFE. 

It was not in literature only that Mrs. Holland 
took a deep interest, nor was her sympathy con- 
fined to the proverbial vicissitudes of those who, 
like herself, laboured with the pen. The wife of 
an artist, and devotedly attached to his interests, 
as well as warmly sympathizing in his tastes, the 
world of art also shared her constant attention. 
She had a thorough appreciation of her husband's 
profession, and the highest estimate of his genius 
as a painter. Yet she did not at any time obtrude 
her opinion of his works. She has recorded it, 
however, in one instance, and it is worth repeat- 
ing. " Of his pictures," she observes in a com- 



138 LIFE AND LITERARY REMAINS OF 

munication to the Art Journal, " it does not be- 
come me to speak ; they belong, perhaps, some- 
what to a time that is past, but more, I trust, to 
a time that is to come ; when the great, the gifted, 
and the good, may probably estimate the nature 
and truth of his colouring — the faithfulness of 
detail— that tone of simplicity devoid of preten- 
sion, yet not of poetry, which secures admirers 
among congenial minds, and enables them to gaze 
with calm delight on the interesting pictures of 
Hofland." 

The wife who could thus think and speak of 
her husband's works, deserved, assuredly, that 
husband's regard and affection; especially when 
with such an appreciation were combined the 
highest devotion and the rarest virtues. Yet, 
alas ! all this was in a great measure lost upon 
him to whom it was offered. "Often, very often," 
says one who knew her well, in her sorrows as in 
her joys, " have the wonder and pity of kind 
hearts been excited, when they beheld that amiable 
and admirable woman, endued with such great 
talents, with the most active and exemplary do- 
mestic habits, and the most pleasing and interest- 
ing powers of social conversation — disregarded, 
despised, and abused." But this affected her not. 
She bore it all with the meekness and resignation 






BARBARA HOFLAND. 139 

of a Christian, " not returning railing for railing, 
but contrariwise, blessing." " She was so proud 
of his talents," Mrs. Hall has observed — " so eager 
to praise his excellence — so anxious, even while 
the flush of outraged feeling was burning on her 
cheek, to exhibit the bright side of his character 
to her most intimate friends — so prone to descant 
upon an artist's trials, and an artist's vexations — 
so wishful to set herself aside, that his value only 
might appear in a strong light — so constantly- 
bringing into active work the charity that 'beareth 
all things, endureth all things, hopeth all things' — 
that to learn the most exalted duties of woman's 
life is but to call to remembrance the practice of 
Barbara Hofland." 

The circumstances of her husband's life, his 
professional engagements, his tastes, his associ- 
ations, one or other, and occasionally all of these, 
brought him much in contact with the great and 
the gay; and weeks, nay sometimes months toge- 
ther, has he spent amidst the blandishments of 
such society, without seeming to bestow a thought 
on his devoted wife at home. It was on his 
return from one of these long -indulged visits, 
that she addressed to him the following touching 
lines : — 



140 LIFE AND LITERARY REMAINS OF 



A HUSBAND'S WELCOME HOME. 

They tell me, love, that thou hast been 

In lordly halls and festive bowers ! 
Where pleasure danced in every mien, 

And time was crown'd with gayest flowers. 
They tell me that the dance and song 

Em ploy' d thy hours — prolong 1 d thy stay, 
That thou wert held by flattery's tongue, 

And bent to beauty's magic sway. 
Well ! be it so — thou 'rt mine again — 

And if thy heart did melt awhile 
'Neath syren pleasure's dulcet strain, 

In witching beauty's sunny smile ; — 
More merit thine to burst these ties, 

To which the firmest mind may yield ; 
He only wins fair virtue's prize, 

Who conquers in a well-fought field. 
Now, dear, more welcome to these arms, 

The husband of my love, my pride — 
Thou hast but 'waked my fond alarms, 

To make my heart more gratified. 

B. H. 

Her qualifications for writing about art and 
artists were naturally great — nay, almost pre- 
eminent. Her own fine taste had been highly 
improved by its contact with her husband's, whose 
great professional talents and accomplishments all 
who knew him and his works were constrained to 



BARBARA HOFLAND. 141 

acknowledge. She knew by constant observation, 
if not almost by experience, that style in painting 
is the same as in writing ; an influence over the 
materials employed — colours in this case — words in 
the other — by which conceptions or sentiments may 
be conveyed. She was conscious, too, of the truth 
and force of what Sir Joshua Reynolds enjoined 
when he said : — " However the mechanic and the 
ornamental arts may sacrifice to fashion, it must 
be entirely excluded from the art of painting ; the 
painter must never mistake this capricious change- 
ling for the genuine offspring of nature ; he must 
divest himself of all prejudice in favour of his age 
and country ; he must disregard all local and tem- 
porary ornaments, and look only on those general 
habits which are everywhere and always the same ; 
he addresses his works to the people of every 
country ; he calls upon posterity to be his specta- 
tors, and says with Zeuxis, in etemitatem pingo" 
The poet felt all this as strongly as the painter. 
If there was one point in art upon which, more 
than another, they were agreed, it was that. And 
hence her happy fitness to be the helpmate of such 
a man. Strange — and pitiful as strange — that it 
should not have been appreciated, responded to, or 
respected ! 

Her interest in artists was very great. She had 



142 LIFE AND LITERARY REMAINS OF 

quite a fellow-feeling with them, and would make 
any sacrifice to encourage and assist the young and 
friendless aspirant. An unpublished memoir of 
one of these, which I shall here present, evinces 
this feeling very plainly. She only knew him 
through her husband's report; and we see how 
readily she must have caught the inspiration, to 
have enabled her to pourtray his character, and 
state his case, as she has done. Besides being a 
fine piece of writing, it is a most interesting piece 
of biography — forming, indeed, quite a romance in 
real life. 

BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH OF 

THE LATE THOMAS WALKER, ESQ. 



" Surely, sir, 



There's in hirn stuff that puts him to these ends : 

The force of his own merit makes his way." — Shakespeare. 

It has been asserted by Dr. Johnson that genius is 
no other than " a mind with strong powers accidentally 
directed to some particular object", and since his time 
many have supported this opinion ; yet as facts are 
more stubborn things than the aphorisms of philo- 
sophers, we may be allowed to doubt the truth of an 
assertion seldom confirmed by observation and expe- 
rience. AYe can neither read the lives of eminent men 
in days past, nor examine the circumstances of those 






BARBARA HOFLAND. 143 

around us, without perceiving that where the qualities 
of the mind run high, and those more ennobling traits 
appear, which we designate genius, there is also a pre- 
dominant taste, a fine perception of excellence in some 
given object of pursuit, by which the man is led to a 
determinate pursuit on which his powers may expand 
their strength, and prove their claim to superiority. 

We apprehend that although his early death una- 
voidably cut off the proofs of his power, few men have 
ever existed who could with more justice lay claim to 
the title of u a man of genius" than the subject of the 
present memoir. Others have by talents and perse- 
verance risen from the pressure of poverty, the impe- 
diments of adverse circumstances, to the path in which 
they were ordained to shine, but Walker did much 
more — he abandoned the solid comforts, the luxuries, 
and the elegancies of life, and that which to a man of 
his sensibility was a far stronger tie, the approbation of 
parents whom he tenderly loved and deeply venerated, 
that he might devote himself to the study of painting, 
with the zeal of a proselyte, and the courage of a 
martyr. 

Our young enthusiast was the eldest son of a person 
of large property and considerable importance in the 
neighbourhood of Nottingham. Mr. Walker, sen. was 
a man of much general knowledge, a clever mathema- 
tician, and celebrated for his mechanical acquirements, 
which were beneficially applied in conducting extensive 



144 LIFE AND LITERARY REMAINS OF 



collieries. These were not only a source of much 
wealth to himself, but they opened an extensive source 
of advantage to his sons, in which not only profit, but 
the enjoyment of great local importance, must be added 
to that of an honourably acquired fortune. To this end 
he looked especially, in the education of his eldest son, 
whose mind he cultivated with the most sedulous care, 
and whose acknowledged abilities promised to extend 
his flourishing concerns to their utmost possible value. 
We know not at what precise period of his life 
young Walker shewed that decided predilection for 
painting which coloured his future existence, but we 
apprehend that he was about nineteen when he first 
broached the idea of devoting himself to it as a profes- 
sion. This he did with the humility which became him 
as a son, yet with a firmness which proceeded from the 
consciousness of talent, and the entire devotion of a 
mind smitten with the fascinations of art. Unhappily 
neither the gentleness of his pleadings, the affection of 
his nature, nor the abilities of which he gave proof, 
could induce the father to listen to his plans and 
wishes. His own views were thwarted, his hopes 
blighted, and even his pride wounded by the idea; for 
though a man of scientific pursuit, he had never consi- 
dered the nature or value of the fine arts, and having 
lived all his life in the country, in ignorance alike of 
their professors and patrons, he could not be brought 
to believe that his son, in the situation of an artist, 



BARBARA HOFLAND. 145 

could fill that place in society which he held to be his 
due. 

In this state of his affairs young Walker took a step 
which was perhaps the wisest in his power; he ad- 
dressed a letter to the then President of the Royal 
Academy, Mr. West, describing his own ardent desires 
to become a painter, his father's objections, and re- 
questing advice how to proceed in order to gain know- 
ledge in the art to which he was devoted. On receiv- 
ing this letter, Mr. West immediately wrote to the 
father informing him that he had received such an ap- 
plication, inquiring " how far he could be brought to 
concede to the wishes of his son ? and offering his own 
assistance in furthering the plan." On the receipt of 
this epistle, the old gentleman became more angry than 
ever, and in his reply protested in such strong terms 
against his son for having proceeded so far in the 
matter, that Mr. West felt it his duty to inclose the 
letter to young Walker, and advise him to " think still 
further on the subject." 

But the die was now cast, the struggle was over, so 
far as related to choice, and the means of attaining his 
object had become the one great point to which his 
energies were bent. He now wrote to Sir William 
Beechey, informing him of his determination to seek in 
London the means of improving himself, and intreating 
his advice how to proceed, again candidly stating how 
he stood with his father. To this, Sir William (as 

10 



146 LIFE AND LITERARY REMAINS OF 

might be expected by those who knew him) replied in 
a courteous and friendly manner and encouraging 
strain, promising " to give him advice when he should 
see the progress he had made" — a promise he after- 
wards fulfilled. 

Most probably young "Walker left his father's house 
about the time when his minority ceased ; he came an 
entire stranger to London,, with a slenderly provided 
purse, and in a clandestine manner, but his spirits were 
sustained by the praises of Sir William Beechey and 
others on the sight of his pictures, and Mr. West, 
finding that he had broken through every impediment 
in pursuit of his object, not only prophesied that he 
would one day attain the eminence he sought, but gave 
him advice on many points where he was at a loss, and 
full permission to use his gallery. 

After a short time, it happened that the President 
had a commission for a copy of his large picture of the 
li Embassy of Lord Macartney," on which he employed 
Walker to make the outline for him. The facility and 
ability he displayed in this work extended his labours 
to the dead colouring, and in fact it went on by little 
and little, until the young student so nearly finished 
the picture, as to leave Mr. West only a few days' 
work upon it. For this labour (which consumed about 
eight months) he only received sixty guineas, but this 
sum was now become extremely welcome. Poor 
Walker had long ere this discovered that even with the 



BARBARA HOFLAND. 147 

humblest lodging and the coarsest fare, there was in 
London a perpetual demand for money, and many, 
many times he had doubtless been ready to exclaim, — 
" how many servants in my father's house have bread 
and to spare, whilst I suffer from hunger!" yet was he 
not a " prodigal son." 

During this season of privation and suffering, — of 
that " hope deferred which maketh the heart sick," he 
had yet the consolation of forming one of those close 
and endearing friendships which are the amelioration of 
life's severest evils. Mr. Lonsdale (now well known as 
an eminent portrait painter) who was then about his own 
age (and like him a student), saw him in Mr. West's 
gallery, and invited him to his lodgings. He met there 
that gentleman's dearest friend, Mr. W. Collard (of the 
house of Clementi), and from that period his acquaint- 
ance with both, from congeniality of pursuit, talent, and 
disposition, became most singularly intimate and happy. 
They proved the truth of the wise man's assertion, 
" two are better than one, but a threefold cord is not 
quickly broken"; they were alike young, imaginative, 
and full of that ardour inseparable in early life from high 
intellect, and that sensibility which is " the milk of 
human kindness". To the former friends the stranger 
was an object of warm admiration and sincere affection, 
whilst his situation soon became one of the deepest 
interest. Like himself, they were both very young ; 
like him, they had the world to struggle with, but they 



148 LIFE AND LITERARY REMAINS OF 

knew that world better than he did ; they could do that 
for him which he could not do for himself, and whilst 
the j proved that they could estimate him justly, and 
sympathise with him tenderly, never, never did he look 
to them for that occasional assistance he needed so 
much, in vain. 

About this period he frequently painted the orna- 
ments on pianofortes, which were procured for him by 
Mr. Collard, as the means of bread ; and many now in 
use bear this proof of his genius and his poverty. 
Whatever he undertook he did well to the utmost of 
his power, and even these trifles offer indubitable proofs 
of his fine conception, though the mechanism of his art 
was as yet imperfectly attained. He was equally par- 
tial to portrait painting and landscape, and like Gains- 
borough, promised to excel in both. In the former, he 
realized more of the colouring of Titian than we recol- 
lect seeing in any modern artist ; whilst in the latter, 
he displayed an intimate acquaintance with nature, a 
vigour of thought and luxuriance of imagination, which 
asked only for time to ensure success. 

During the period of his greatest difficulties, young 
Walker had lodged with a respectable widow in poor 
circumstances, who had an only daughter. It will not 
surprise any one read in the human heart to learn that 
he married this young person, nor could it be said that 
he thereby increased his difficulties, since his wife was 
not only amiable, but prudent, and managed his slender 



BARBARA HOFLAND. 149 

finances so well, that his union could hardly be la- 
mented further than as it increased the breach between 
him and his father. After this time, however, the 
offended parent, through the medium of his mother, 
sometimes transmitted him a ten-pound note, which 
occasional remittance generally amounted to about forty 
pounds a year, though it never took the form of an 
annuity. 

Walker was an affectionate, attentive husband, and 
a tender father, and submitted cheerfully to the ob- 
scurity his confined circumstances imposed, but from 
which his friends sought to draw him ; and when 
through their medium he obtained a few commissions, 
and the pressure of his necessities was relieved in the 
most temporary manner, the buoyancy of his spirits 
returned; he became not only cheerful but sportive, 
and from his various information and conversational 
talents, was the charm of every social circle in which 
he appeared. 

Poor Walker had remained in this situation three 
or four years, when new and better prospects sud- 
denly opened upon him. Mr. Wilkes, the banker, a 
gentleman of large property and extensive connexions, 
sat to him for his portrait, which was engraved, and 
attracted much attention, in consequence of which he 
became our painter's liberal patron. Nor were his 
good offices confined to professional encouragement; 
for on learning his circumstances, he left no means 



150 LIFE AND LITERARY REMAINS OF 

untried to reconcile him to his father. In truth, pa- 
rental tenderness had been long brooding in a kind of 
sullen affection over the self-exiled son ; and when in 
pursuit of the means of life, the painter had made an 
excursion to his own county, it was ascertained that 
several persons gave him commissions for their por- 
traits, to whom his father had presented the money 
with which they paid the son. The admiration these 
works excited, together with the praise given to those 
he had exhibited in London, so far affected a parent, 
who could now appreciate ability in whatever walk it 
existed, that at this period he actually called in ten 
thousand pounds, with the intention of settling it upon 
the long-abandoned artist ; but a determination to hide 
the affair from his family prevented him from imme- 
diately effecting his purpose. 

In the winter following, the long -cherished anger of 
the father gave way so far, that he invited his son to 
visit him; and gratefully, and immediately, was that 
invitation accepted, for the erring genius dearly loved 
and honoured his father and mother ; and it is worthy 
of remark, that neither in the hour of distress, nor that 
of relief, was he ever heard, by those friends who 
shared every thought of his heart, to utter a word of 
complaint or unkind reflection. His visit was delight- 
ful to him, as a restoration to his paternal home, and a 
promise of future restoration to paternal love ; but he 
found there was yet only a partial melting of the 



BARBARA HOFLAND. 151 

father's heart towards him ; — the painter was forgiven, 
but not the husband, and he was permitted to return 
without any pecuniary assistance, although he was 
aware that his mother had laboured to procure him a 
present, knowing that his expenses at home were on 
the point of increase. 

The web of life is indeed " of a mingled yarn, good 
and ill together". Scarcely had Walker regained his 
father thus partially, when he lost his wife entirely. 
The kind and gentle being, the warm and considerate 
friend, who had soothed his first sorrows, and supplied 
his first wants, was taken from him, in giving birth to 
a son, within one week after his return to his own 
dwelling. The two helpless children she left, and 
whom he loved with all the tenderness so conspicuous 
in his character, were placed under the care of their 
maternal grandmother, — an excellent woman, to whom 
he always evinced the sincerest attachment. 

About two months after this severe shock, he was 
induced, by the persuasion of an acquaintance, to go 
to an oratorio, then performing at the theatre. The 
house was crowded, the heat excessive, but the night 
was one of such severe frost, that on coming out he 
caught a terrible cold, which fell upon his lungs, and 
produced violent inflammation the following day. His 
alarmed friends hastened to his assistance, procured 
the best medical help, and by every possible attention 
sought to arrest the progress of disease. On the 



152 LIFE AND LITERARY REMAINS OF 

second night both sat up with him, and in the course 
of it placed him in the warm bath which had been 
prescribed, and which appeared to have every effect 
desired. Scarcely, however, had they left him, when 
every bad symptom returned, and he expired within 
an hour. 

When the father of this amiable and admirable 
young man learnt this sudden catastrophe, the severe 
grief which overwhelmed him rose almost to frenzy ; 
and long after the first agony had subsided, the bitter- 
ness of his remorse, the acuteness of his sorrow, re- 
mained undiminished. The same unyielding violence 
of temperament which had so pertinaciously alienated 
his first-born, now led him to idolize the son he had lost, 
even to a degree of injustice towards the son and 
daughter who were still left to him, and to heap upon 
his orphans that wealth of which he had refused even 
the smallest portion to their father in the hour of 
want. He sent immediately for the babes and their 
grandmother, on whom he settled a handsome annuity; 
he collected at any price every picture, and even 
sketch, which had been painted by his son ; and thus, 
in proving his value for his memory and talents, irre- 
parably crushed his rising fame, and left him without 
those memorials in the world, which would decidedly 
prove to posterity that it was no false estimate of his 
own powers, no idle fancy or rebellious desire, which 
rendered him a wanderer, and a sufferer, — but the 



BARBARA HOFLAND. 153 

irresistible impetus of conscious power, the exercise of 
heaven's own gift of genius. 

It is in consequence of the disappearance of his 
works from the eye of the public, at a period when 
the fine arts are greatly extending in estimation, that 
we are induced to offer this unassuming but sincere 
tribute to his memory, and rescue from oblivion (so 
far as we are able) a name which must have gone 
down the stream of time with the noblest and best, 
had time been given to mature his talents and reveal 
his character. 

Mr. Walker died just as he reached the age of 
twenty-nine ; having resided in London between seven 
and eight years, during which period, notwithstanding 
the difficulties of his situation, he gave proofs of genius 
rarely equalled, and (all circumstances considered) per- 
haps never excelled ; but his works, from their very 
superiority, were perhaps less understood by common 
observers than those of a more ordinary cast, and of 
course his progress was destined to be slow, though 
sure. He was a man whose mind was imbued with 
every great and every lovely quality, and his conver- 
sation was full of wit and humour at some times, at 
others of sentiment, and that gentle seriousness so 
touching to the heart : when speaking of that art to 
which he had devoted himself, his lips were " touched 
with a live coal from the altar" at which he was a sa- 
crifice ; and we have frequently heard Mr. Hofland 



154 LIFE AND LITERARY REMAINS OF 

say, that the eloquence of Walker in descanting on 
the beauties of nature, and the fascinations of land- 
scape painting, had confirmed him in that decided 
preference to this branch of art, which to the present 
hour he has held inviolate. 

Let it be also recorded, that Thomas Walker was a 
sincere believer in the great truths of Christianity, of 
strictly moral principles in every relation of life, and 
of the warmest attachment to all the ties of family and 
friendship. In his person, he was of the middle height, 
and though not handsome in the common acceptation 
of the word, had a mouth so full of benevolent expres- 
sion, and a forehead so indicative of mental energy and 
lofty ideas, that perhaps he was never seen, or spoken 
with, by any person who did not ardently desire to see 
him again ; and he was beloved by those who had dis- 
tinguished his merits, and engaged his confidence, with 
an intensity of affection which neither death nor time 
have effaced, and which, in the praise which loves to 
linger on his memory, the tear which glistens at the 
mention of his name, breathes an eulogy alike honour- 
able to him, and those who survive him.* 

Mr. Walker, senior, outlived his highly gifted son 
betwixt six and seven years, and left the bulk of his 
fortune to his infant grandson, which, with the accu- 

* Mr. T. Walker died in 1808, and is buried in the 
churchyard of Saint Mary-le-bone. 



BARBARA HOFLAND. 155 

mulations consequent on his long minority, amounts, 
we are told, to nearly £14,000 per annum. How far 
the superior talents of his father are added to this noble 
fortune we know not, but understand that when at 
Eton he was considered a clever boy. The singular 
contrast between his present and his early state, may 
have never engaged his attention, but we do sincerely 
hope that he holds in due estimation the memory of a 
father so highly meritorious, and so remarkably unfor- 
tunate. 



156 LIFE AND LITERARY REMAINS OF 



CHAPTER VIII. 

MRS. HOFLAND ? S PARTIALITY FOR A COUNTRY LIFE 

HOFLAND AS AN ANGLER SONNET ON ANGLING — 

RETIREMENT AT RICHMOND STATE OF SOCIETY IN 

LONDON AND THE COUNTRY HER NOVEL OF " THE 

UNLOVED ONE" — HER OWN CRITICISM — UNPUBLISHED 
TALE, " THE VILLAGE FLORIST". 

Mrs. Hofland had ever a great partiality for the 
country. Her town life was one of necessity, not 
of choice ; and as soon as the necessity could be 
got rid of, choice was allowed to prevail, — some 
approach, at least, to rural quiet, being exchanged 
for urban noise and bustle. Many yearnings had 
she for woods and lawns, and hills and dales ; and 
never did she visit them without leaving behind 
her Sir Walter Raleigh's benediction : — 

" Blest silent groves ! may ye be 
For ever mirth's best nursery ! 
May pure contents 
For ever pitch their tents 



BARBARA HOFLAND. 157 

Upon these downs, these meads, these rocks, these 
mountains, 

And peace still slumber by these purling fountains ! 
Which we may every year 
Find when we come a fishing here ! " 

And there, amid such scenes, did Hofland con- 
stantly "come a fishing", her own heart following 
him, for he was a devoted disciple of Izaak Wal- 
ton. "His passion for angling", says his wife, 
" known from the book he wrote on that subject, 
still existed in its wonted force (to within a few 
months of his death) ; and it is a consolation to 
remember, that during the last two summers, in 
which he resided at Richmond, a place to which 
he was fondly attached, he still enjoyed it." She 
sympathized warmly with him in this pastime, as 
well as in his professional pursuits, as the follow- 
ing little poem will sufficiently shew : — 

SONNET ON ANGLING. 

What is the conqueror's most triumphant joy, 

Compared to his, who brings from lake or stream 
The valorous trout, — carp, cunning, old, and coy, — 

Or pike, voracious, — perch, with golden gleam, — 
Or dace, of living silver ? What a theme, 

On which the sire may lesson his proud boy, 
And friendship listen till day's parting beam 

Close on the pleasant toil, the loved employ, 



158 LIFE AND LITERARY REMAINS OF 

Thence rise no revelries to vice akin, 

No vulgar joys unmeet for souls refined, 
The angler's art and energies may win, 

Alike the polished and the manly mind ; 
The one delight, I ween, where man ne'er fftund 
Source for repentant sigh, or sorrow's slightest wound. 

B. H. 

It was probably with a view to Holland's accom- 
modation as an angler, as much as for any other 
reason, that they took up their abode at Hammer- 
smith, a pleasant place itself, and, from its conti- 
guity to the Thames, affording great facilities for 
the pursuit of that favourite amusement. Here 
they continued to reside for some years; and 
formed the centre of a select circle of attached 
friends. But their hearts still yearned — that of 
our authoress in particular — for a still quieter and 
more decidedly country life, and therefore a fur- 
ther removal from the metropolis was resolved 
upon. In selecting Richmond as the place where 
she might end her days in peace, Mr. Hofland's 
tastes and conveniences were no doubt more con- 
sulted than her own. It had always been one of 
his most esteemed angling stations; but the rich 
landscape scenery around had also its attractions, 
in the enjoyment of which they could both parti- 
cipate. The situation chosen, Ormond-row, was 



BARBARA HOFLAND. 159 

one where she had before occasionally resided. 
In a hurried note, immediately after her removal, 
she says, — " I like my house ; and when I can 
look at it, I am sure to like the country I am in. 
Mr. Holland is out continually ; but I have not yet 
been out of doors". This was in 1841 ; and in 
that delightful place she dwelt as happily as might 
be, enjoying not only the beauties of nature, but 
society quite congenial ; for here, as she had done 
elsewhere, she found devoted friends, by whom 
her company was eagerly sought. Her many 
little evening parties were a source of the highest 
pleasure to all who were privileged to enjoy them; 
and she reciprocated these happy social meetings 
in her nicely chosen circle with much delight. 

" Now stir the fire, and close the shutters fast, 
Let fall the curtains, wheel the sofa round, 
And while the bubbling and loud hissing urn 
Throws up a steamy column, and the cups, 
That cheer, but not inebriate, wait on each, 
So let us welcome peaceful evening in." 

Such was now her greatest pleasure : and many a 
peaceful evening did she thus "welcome in" during 
the last five years of her life, in her calm retire- 
ment at Richmond. 

The following essay was written by Mrs. Hof- 
land long before this time; but it shows how 



160 LIFE AND LITERARY REMAINS OF 

much she knew, even then, of the pleasures of such 
social intercourse as she had now the opportunity 
to indulge in, and how well she was prepared to 
prefer it to that of a more brilliant, but less con- 
tentful London life : — 



STATE OF SOCIETY IN LONDON AND THE COUNTRY. 

The metropolis in every country will be generally 
found to contain the highest productions of which that 
country can boast, whether of matter or mind ; for so 
much is the latter benefited by collision and compa- 
rison, that the most abstract thinker, the most solitary 
metaphysician, or practical naturalist, never fails to 
find either constant residence or frequent visits there, 
of the highest importance to him. In Paris we may 
generally consider the whole strength of France (ex- 
tensive as it is) to be concentred in literature, 
science, art, and general knowledge. In England 
they are more diffused, but yet London is the grand 
focus ; and towards it even Edinburgh, with all its 
powers of rivalry, looks as the grand mart where talent 
is best displayed, appreciated, and invigorated ; where 
every man may best learn his own value, and that of 
others ; and where timidity and presumption alike are 
taught that courage and wisdom are necessary to render 
persons valuable to others, and happy in themselves. 

From these premises a stranger will be apt to con 






BARBARA HOFLAND. 161 

elude, that in London, people are either so drawn to 
each other by congeniality of pursuit, that they form 
an unapproachable body, which yet in time may be 
entered, and of course highly enjoyed ; or else, that in 
consequence of their numbers, they may be found 
sprinkled in every coterie which is enlivened or im- 
proved by their presence. 

Neither of these expectations is realized to those 
who deem good society, what it really is, the great 
charm of life, the consoler of its cares, the excitement 
of its energies. Unquestionably, in London, parties are 
formed among persons of superior intellect, high 
literary reputation, and considerable conversational 
powers ; but they are not only difficult of access to all 
out of their party, but when there, the national cha- 
racter is found to prevail too strongly for those purposes 
for which they were convened. Some will be found 
exhausted by thought, and desirous of the repose to be 
attained only by silence, and that listlessness which 
they are seldom permitted to enjoy ; others have that 
terrible oppression of the spirits arising from the sense 
of having a character to maintain : few dare to be at 
ease, and fewer still give credit to those around them, 
so far as to consider them worthy of exertion. If one 
young and ardent spirit abandons himself to pleasure, 
chatters, blunders, laughs, reasons, and sparkles, he soon 
finds himself reproved by taciturnity, or depressed by 
the powers he has drawn out against him ; he has 

11 



162 LIFE AND LITERARY REMAINS OF 

raised giants into play with great difficulty, for pon- 
derous minds, like heavy bodies, move slowly, and the 
result is that they make nine-pins of towers, and rattle 
the house about his ears. 

A very superior literary man told me not long since, 
" that he was persuaded that the greatest and cleverest 
talker in England would soon cease to talk if he were 
induced to write"; and I am fully persuaded, from 
observation and reason, that such is indeed the fact. 
Authors say, in general, much less than others ; they 
are a shy, a proud, and a timid race ; but it is less 
owing perhaps to any of these qualities, than to the 
habit of thinking on everything which appears worthy 
of thought, that we may impute this property. The 
rapid repartee, the sportive argument, and the sprightly 
sally, are less to be expected from him who is accus- 
tomed to weigh gold coins, than him who can only 
scatter gold dust ; though the latter will show many a 
brilliant ring to gild the social hour. 

If the highly endowed and richly cultivated thus 
disperse little light when concentred, still less may we 
expect them to aid in dispelling gloom or awakening 
pleasure when placed in a circle distinct from them- 
selves, new to their observation, and probably averse 
to their pursuits. Nothing is more common than to 
see stars of this description " hide their diminished 
heads", veil their expected rays, and, instead of bestow- 
ing those scintillations for which many are waiting 






BARBARA HOFLAND. 163 

malignantly, and a few amiably, retire to the safe 
hiding place offered by the follies of a card table, or 
take refuge in the reprehensible plea of indisposition, 
for silence and abstraction. 

When thus " shorn of those beams" one naturally 
concluded would adorn the circle of metropolitan 
society, I may be allowed, without fear of contradiction, 
to assert, that what remains generally offers far infe- 
rior claims to attention than any country coterie it has 
ever been my lot to mingle with. The abundant 
journals read by every man in the morning, it is true, 
furnish food for observation ; but as every one knows 
it already, there is no power of advancing novelty, or 
exhibiting that facility of relating anecdote, which are 
in themselves high qualities. The opera, theatres, 
and the fashions, are a London lady's grand subjects, I 
might say sole subjects, of conversation in general. 
On these they descant volubly, but rather with a view 
to persons than things. Thus we hear no remarks 
whatever to illustrate the nature or tendency of a 
drama, — the plot, the poetry, or the characters ; all 
observation, all declamation, is given exclusively to the 
actors. Shakspeare, Otway, and Howe, are forgotten : 
Kean, Young, and Macready, are alone deemed worthy 
of praise or blame, for they alone are seen, felt, and 
understood, we were about to say, but in truth that is 
going too far. 

The younger misses of a party huddle together to 



164 LIFE AND LITERARY REMAINS OF 

whisper about their music and their dancing masters, 
but, except in the hour of exhibition, rarely amuse us, 
and certainly never disgust or weary us at any other 
time ; for the age of frivolity, of romping and teasing, 
is wholly gone by, and that of sentimentality never 
obtains to any great length in London, where, Johnson 
truly observed, people " rarely fall in love". Our 
young belles are a serious, fame-pursuing race, whose 
laborious education has destroyed the playfulness and 
vivid imagination incident to early life. Those more 
advanced seek more substantial rewards ; but all are 
become much greater thinkers than their grandmothers, 
and by the same rule are less colloquial ; for although 
all speech is deteriorated into idle chattering when not 
used as the vehicle of revealing thought, yet, as in the 
case already cited, we shall certainly find that too 
much thought also defeats that end. In early life we 
look rather for the blossoms of fancy than the fruits of 
reflection, and everything is sweetest and best in its 
own season. 

The pleasures of London consist, then (generally 
speaking), either in the public spectacles, lectures, or 
exhibitions, which in their superior excitement have 
destroyed the relish, and cramped the energies, which 
are requisite for rendering conversation amusing and 
instructive ; or, in that quiet, endearing, family inter- 
course, which contents itself with the little world 
beneath its own roof, and which is unquestionably 






BARBARA HOFLAND. 165 

enjoyed in London with more ease and unbroken pri- 
vacy than in the country, where you must either mix 
in the world around you, or quarrel with it. For my 
own part, being naturally sociable, yet averse to dissi- 
pation, I have no hesitation in saying, " that I greatly 
prefer the society to be met with in the country". It 
will not often happen in the present general state of 
cultivation, that any half-dozen neighbours shall meet 
at the hospitable table, or evening entertainment, with- 
out such a display of knowledge or talent as to redeem 
their characters fully from the charge of scandal to 
which they were formerly subject, or to that of insi- 
pidity, more lately bestowed. If we find no authors, 
we are sure to find some blue-stockings, who, according 
to Mrs. Opie's admirable description of them, are much 
the more entertaining personages ; and we are likely 
to meet with an originality of manners, characters, 
and remarks, rarely to be found in the walks of society, 
which has frittered away all strong lines by the fur- 
bishing and polishing of fashion, or the inanity arising 
from the exhausting influence of dissipation. 

In the country we meet to please and be pleased ; 
and the faculties of the mind are quickened by the 
warmths of the heart, arising from long-remembered 
intercourse, congenial opinions, or friendly oppositions 
of sentiment. People are nearly on a par in point of 
importance, yet necessarily diversified in knowledge 
and taste : in consequence of which there is a variety 



166 LIFE AND LITERARY REMAINS OF 

of subject descanted on, so that every one in his turn 
may display talent, obtain information, excite risibility, 
or awaken sympathy. Even when general conversation 
becomes interrupted, and some withdraw to groups or 
corners, many pleasant discussions or agreeable com- 
munications are made ; many a brisk argument or inte- 
resting tete-a-tete is carried on ; the spirits are cheered, 
the faculties kept in joyous motion, and the best feel- 
ings and affections of our nature excited, in a very 
superior degree to the cold, heartless, and superficial 
manner prevalent in the overgrown, glittering, bustling, 
but joyless parties of London. 

To the truth and force of every sentiment 
recorded in the foregoing paper, Mrs. Hofland 
became more and more alive in her sweet retire- 
ment at Richmond. Still, though she found lei- 
sure to indulge in that delightful interchange of 
social pleasures she could so well appreciate, she 
was by no means idle. Hers was never a life of 
indolence ; and even in her otinm cum dignitate, 
she continued, though less laboriously, to exert 
the powers of her mind, and give proof of the 
activity of her pen. She still wrote much for the 
magazines and the annuals ; and brought out also 
a clever novel, in three volumes, entitled " The 
Unloved One". Alluding to this production, in 
one of her familiar notes to a friend, she says, — 



BARBARA HOFLAND. 167 

" If you see my 6 Unloved One, so don't I ; for 

Master C has not given me even an odd copy. 

The last volume was cropped short, and then 
found to be too short; but it is gone into the 
world, 'with all its imperfections on its head', 
which I grieve for as much as I can for anything 
that is become of little moment. Dear Sir John 
has reviewed it indulgently ; so has Jerdan, — 
for the rest I care but little. I know there is 
truth and nature, and plenty of deficiencies and 
old-mannerisms; and the good and evil must be 
taken together. It will delight no one; but it 
will touch a few tender hearts, and may reprove 
some thoughtless ones. At any rate, my three 

volumes are better than 's last three, for they 

were all scraps ; and a whole joint is better than 
a host of scraps any day". 

The " Sir John" mentioned above, was Sir John 
Philippart, in whom she had a kind and sincere 
friend during the last few years of her life. 

Perhaps Mrs. Hofland was correct in the esti- 
mate she formed of " The Unloved One". It was 
too good in a moral sense to be very popular as a 
novel. " Truth, nature, and plenty of deficiencies 
and old-mannerisms", — certainly there were all 
these ; but the two former predominated largely 
over the rest, and were quite sufficient to redeem 



168 LIFE AND LITERARY REMAINS OF 

it from all dulness or dryness, as well in the esti- 
mation of sober minds as of " tender hearts". She 
was more successful, however, at this time, in her 
contributions to the annuals, in the pretty pages 
of many of which she contrived to 

"' Convey the moral precept in a tale", 

which captivated all young hearts, and even inte- 
rested more matured understandings. The follow- 
ing specimen of one addressed to juvenile tastes, 
has never been published : — 



THE VILLAGE FLORIST. 






The author of Elicfs Essays observes that " the 
children of the poor do not prattle"; inferring that 
they think and talk, not " of holidays and games", but 
" of the price of potatoes and starch". This, we fear, 
is much the case in all large towns; but in the country, 
though early care may visit young hearts occasionally, 
they participate, with the lambs, the birds, and the 
butterflies with which they are associated, those buoy- 
ant spirits and simple enjoyments which belong to 
childhood. 

Such at least was the case with Gertrude Price, 
generally called "little Gatty the flower girl"; yet her 
lot in life was very lowly, and her comforts very scanty. 
She dwelt with her great aunt, an aged and infirm 



BARBARA HOFLAND. 1 69 

woman, who with difficulty procured subsistence for 
herself and this orphan relative, by uniting the labours 
of a charwoman (when able to undertake them), a 
baker of crumpets, and the seller of the produce of a 
small garden, in which she cultivated herbs and flowers. 
As soon as Gatty could carry a basket, and knew her 
way through the lanes and over the meadows, she 
became in winter the retailer of cakes, and in summer 
of flowers, through a rather extensive circle, and being 
a pretty black-eyed little girl, with a pleasant smile and 
a sweet voice, there were few persons who had once 
received her thanks for the pence they had paid her, 
who did not desire to deal with her again. 

But Gatty's best customers and friends were Mr. 
Stepney and his daughter Rose ; this gentleman had 
taken a cottage in the village for the sake of its pure 
air, and its vicinity to the parsonage, which was inha- 
bited by the friend of his boyhood. Gatty's cakes had 
tempted his weak appetite on his arrival, and her 
grateful looks, bobbing curtsey, and patient plodding, 
through frost and snow, mire and rain, won his pity, 
and excited in his own affectionate girl the warmest 
interest. In summer he plucked from his own garden 
flowers which Rose delighted to make into nosegays 
for Gatty's basket, and often did he tell her to call on 
her return, in order to replace the beautiful produce of 
his parterre with the cold meat or the bottle of beer 
which her pining relative required. 



] 70 LIFE AND LITERARY REMAINS OF 

And when, in the declining year, Gatty's stock was 
gone, and her labours more circumscribed, Rose re- 
ceived her every morning an hour before her poor 
father was stirring, and taught her to read and write, 
to net garters and knit nightcaps for sale. There was 
indeed nothing which a girl in her fourteenth year 
could communicate to one in her ninth that Rose 
omitted to teach Gatty, which could benefit one in her 
station ; and confined as she now was by the indisposi- 
tion of her beloved and only parent, her contrivances 
to help the poor flower-girl, either by renovating her 
wardrobe, replenishing her basket, or exciting her ap- 
plication to learning, formed her only amusement. 
Beneath her fostering care the poor child became like 
a flower in the sunshine, she grew taller and stronger, 
was no longer the patient drudge, but the cheerful la- 
bourer ; Gatty could run with the swiftest, laugh with 
the gayest, and many a titled girl might have looked 
from her carriage windows with envy on the contented 
creature. 

Alas ! this period of her history too soon passed 
away ; after struggling with difficulty through the 
winter, in the fatal month of March Mr. Stepney died, 
leaving his daughter overwhelmed with affliction, from 
which all his lessons of resignation could not in the 
first instance preserve her, for he had been to her 
everything the world could give, and his loss included 
every other. 



BARBARA HOFLAND. 171 

This lamented parent had been at one time a rich 
Russia merchant, but he had suffered great losses, and 
conscious of his approaching dissolution, retired from 
all business, and sought only to secure a respectable 
competence for his daughter. Having honourably 
settled all his affairs, he purchased the cottage in which 
he ended his days, contented to live on three hundred 
a year, which was the rent of his late house and pre- 
mises in London. To Mr. Grayson, the clergyman of 
the parish, he bequeathed the guardianship of his 
daughter in a few lines written by himself, evidently 
with the belief that no trouble on pecuniary matters 
would arise to one whom he knew to be as much a 
child in all worldly affairs as he was wise in those that 
belong to eternity. 

Deeply was this good man afflicted when he found 
that poor Rose had no property whatever save the 
cottage ; for it appeared that Mr. Stepney had not only 
sold his house, but spent or paid away its produce, for 
there was not more than twenty pounds found in the 
cottage, or bonds or securities for any. In consequence 
there was a necessity for selling the furniture of the 
cottage, and letting it as speedily as possible; and poor 
Rose, so soon as she could pay attention to such mat- 
ters, was given to understand that her portion was so 
small, it would be advisable that she should endeavour 
to improve herself in those accomplishments which 
would enable her to become the teacher of others. 



172 LIFE AND LITERARY REMAINS OF 

Her friends at the parsonage had a large family and 
a narrow income, and they loved Rose so much, that 
they believed she would do far better for herself than 
by staying with them, otherwise she would have been 
welcome to remain, and " be unto them as a daughter. 55 
She removed to London ; she exerted herself to the 
utmost ; but when she was about seventeen, became so 
poorly, that country air was prescribed, and she re- 
turned to the parsonage, to the great joy of poor Gatty, 
who observed, " she was grown grand and tall like a 
holly-hock, but white and drooping as a lily of the 
valley. 55 

Pure air, good milk, kind faces, and cheerful con- 
versation, the result of piety and sympathy, soon re- 
stored the amiable orphan to perfect health, and the 
family being considerably reduced, from the sons having 
gone out into the world, her abode with them was 
warmly pressed by the worthy couple, and she con- 
sented to remain at least through the following sum- 
mer ; again she made nosegays for Gatty's basket, 
turned an old gown for her use, and sought to im- 
press on her mind those truths which might console 
her poverty and reward her exertions ; and, to her 
great delight, she became twice a week a privileged 
visitor to Miss Stepney, to whom she brought her copy 
book, and the clothes she had helped to wash. 

As she was received in the parlour used by all the 
family , Gatty, after a time, ceased to start and blush 






BARBARA HOFLAND. 173 

if " his reverence" happened to be sitting there ; but 
when his son, who was beginning life as an attorney, 
and came down on business in the neighbourhood, was 
found there, Gatty thought it would be improper to ask 
her benefactress for her bill, or display her own im- 
provements, and she was bustling away when Miss 
Stepney called her back, saying, " Mr. Richard will 
not disturb you and me, Gatty, for you see he is busy 
himself." 

Gatty indeed saw that the young gentleman was un- 
folding a large sheet of something which made a dif- 
ferent sound to that of paper ; she looked at it with 
extraordinary earnestness and even interest, so that 
Rose was induced to say, ;< I suppose you never saw a 
sheet of parchment before, Gatty?" 

" Never but once, Miss, in all my life ; pray is it 
some kind of a grand newspaper ?" 

" No, Gatty, it is called a deed ; I will tell you more 
about it another time." 

Gatty appeared disappointed ; she nestled close up 
to the table, and without laying down her bill or her 
book, said earnestly, " Pray, do people ever steal deeds, 
Miss Stepney?" 

" I should think not, Gatty, for they are generally 
locked up." 

" Oh! but he must have stolen it — he looked so 
pale and so wild, just the same as the woman who took 
stockings from our hedge — he must have stolen it ! " 



174 LIFE AND LITERARY REMAINS OF 

These words were muttered in soliloquy by Gatty, 
who in speaking them annoyed her young friend ; but 
they struck Richard Grayson very differently; hastily 
folding the parchment, he came forward, and in a mild 
voice desired the child would " tell him all about the 
parchment she had seen ?" at the same time sitting 
down, as if willing to hear a long story. 

" Why, sir, you see it is a long time since, but I re- 
member it exactly the same as if it were last night, and 
I'll tell you, Miss, my reasons." 

" No, Gatty, tell us the story first." 

" Well, as I was coming home with my very last 
basket of flowers for that year, having one bundle, I 
mean bouquet, left, I sat down just by our door, think- 
ing I might have a chance for selling that, because I 
heard somebody coming down the lane, and sure enough 
there came a grand gentleman in boots, with one of 
those rattling deeds in his hand ; he opened it out in 
the way to read the words by the little light that was 
left (for in the lane it was nearly dark), and he looked 
pleased for a minute, and then somehow quite fright- 
ened, so that I was afraid too, though he didn't see me, 
and I crept into the porch. Oh ! how quickly he did 
fold it up, though his hands shook like an aspen branch, 
and then he buttoned it in his bosom so fast, like as if 
all the buttons in the world couldn't hold it safe." 

" And which way did he go, my little maid?" 

" He turned again up the lane, and I crept up the 



BARBARA HOFLAND. 175 

field at the back of the hedge to watch him, for though 
I was frightened I was somehow curious too, and 
wanted to see where he would go. I was quite a child 
then, and had a trick of singing, and just as I got to 
the top of the lane, which you know is very short, I 
believe I sung out words which my aunt had taught 
me : — 

" It is a sin to steal a pin, 
Much more to steal a greater thing." 

Well ! you never would have forgot it had you seen 
how the strange gentlemen did start and stare ; but he 
had no chance of seeing such a little thing as me, and 
I stood stock still, all of a tremble. He felt for the 
deed, pulled it half out, thrust it in again, and at last 
took to running as fast as he could up to the public- 
house ; and a few minutes after galloped away on a 
fine horse." 

" And you never heard more of him ?" 

" No, sir, except that when I asked the ostler about 
him next day, he said ' he did not know who I meant, 
unless it was a gentleman that had been calling to see 
poor Mr. Stepney'." 

" Miss Stepney, have you any recollection of such a 
caller ?" 

"Indeed I have," replied poor Rose, with much 
emotion: "one evening in autumn, when my dear fa- 
ther had been obliged to lie down, the servant called 



176 LIFE AND LITERARY REMAINS OF 

me from his bed-side to speak with a gentleman, whom 
I found to be Mr. Stilton, our tenant. He said ' that 
my papa had got his copy of the lease of the house as 
well as his own, and he would thank him for it, as he 
could take it then, though he was in a great hurry'. 

" On going up stairs with this message, my father 
bade me reach him a tin box, in which he said the lease 
was, and added, ' I ought to have sent it to him.' As 
he gave me a parchment out of the box he was seized 
with a violent fit of coughing, so that he could not look 
at it I remember, but I ran down with it as quick as 
possible, and gave it to Mr. Stilton." 

" Alas ! alas i you doubtless gave away the title- 
deeds of that property to which you were entitled : 
the fact is confirmed from the circumstance of that 
very box containing two copies of a lease, one of which 
ought to have been in the tenant's possession. On my 
observing this circumstance to Mr. Stilton, he said he 
had not thought it material, seeing he was becoming 
the purchaser ; but I well remember his confusion, 
which confirms all this child asserts. I wished exceed- 
ingly to have questioned him closely, but my poor 
father, whose perfect innocence precludes suspicion, 
could not bear to hear me examine one whose specious 
bearing and pretended sorrow for you, rendered him 
sacred in his eyes." 

" I cannot blame him ; even now the thing appears 
impossible to me : my father was his friend in early 



BARBARA HOFLAND. 177 

early life ; he is a wealthy man, why should he wrong 
me ? I cannot believe him guilty." 

"But I can, for it is my misfortune to see every 
day the dark side of human nature, as it is exhibited 
in an attorney's office ; and I know how temptation 
operates on selfish minds when there is no strong reli- 
gious principle to oppose it. Mr. Stilton has a good 
character, which he cannot bear to lose, and which will 
render confession difficult ; nevertheless, as he is not a 
hardened sinner, I trust, with this witness in my hand, 
I may extort from his fears what his fraud has retained. 
My dear father will gladly assist me, for he will see 
the finger of God manifested in this discovery." 

Gatty knew not whether she was most pleased or 
frightened, when she found herself riding to London 
between two gentlemen ; but the idea of being service- 
able to Miss Rose, though she did not quite comprehend 
how, was very dear to her. Within a little time she 
had read Miss Edgeworth's story of " Simple Susan", 
and it struck her that, perhaps, like that good girl, she 
might get the better of another lawyer Cave. She had, 
nevertheless, a strong impression that the gentleman 
who had unfairly possessed himself of the parchment 
was a different person to the village tyrant, and, to use 
her own phrase, "had never been naughty before". 
On arriving at Mr. Stilton's house, they were informed 
by his servant that his health had been long very 
indifferent, and he was then so low and poorly it was 

12 



178 LIFE AND LITERARY REMAINS OF 

impossible for him to see more than one person at a 
time. A short consultation followed : Mr. Grayson 
was afraid that his son might be too peremptory in his 
accusations of so weak a man ; his son feared no less 
that his father might be cajoled by one who had 
so much cause to continue his deception. They at 
length agreed that Gatty should go in first, since upon 
her power of identifying Mr. Stilton as the person in 
question, everything depended. 

Never had Gatty beheld a room half so large or half 
so grand as that to which she was now admitted, and 
in the confusion caused in her mind by looking-glasses 
and pictures, it was some time before she perceived a 
gentleman who lay on a sofa at the farther end, or 
heard him in a faint voice bid her come near to him. 

At length Gatty sprang forward with the quickness 
of habitual obedience, but when arrived close to the 
invalid, she suddenly stopped, and gazed intently on his 
face : " Surely," she thought, " this pale, thin gentle- 
man cannot be the stout, good-looking person I saw ?" 
and she became justly afraid of making an unfounded 
accusation. 

When Gatty entered Mr. Stilton's drawing-room, 
he concluded she was come to beg some favour for 
herself or her parents, and he made due allowance for 
a silence that might proceed from timidity ; but natu- 
rally feeling offended by the scrutinizing manner in 
which she regarded him, he muttered angrily, " What 
can the girl mean by fixing her black eyes on me ?" 



BARBARA HOFLAND. 179 

Though not addressed, Gatty felt it was high time 
to speak, but what to say she knew not : three times 
she opened her lips, but no sound issued from them ; 
her distress increased every moment, and at length, 
the adage of her infancy broke forth in slow sonorous 
sounds, — 

" It — is — a sin — to steal — a pin — much more to — " 

There was no occasion for more : Mr. Stilton sprang 
from the sofa with an expression of countenance and 
dilation of form which fully revealed the fact of his 
being the man she had seen ; at the same time he said 
in a voice half suffocated by his astonishment : — 

" Who are you, girl ? — what do you want ? 

" I am Gatty Price, sir, the flower girl of Ridgeton, 
and I wanted to look at you again : it was me that saw 
you in the lane that night you stole — I beg pardon, 
that night you took the parchment deed from Mr. 
Stepney's." 

Had the earth yawned beneath his feet, scarcely 
could Mr. Stilton have been more appalled; yet rage 
alone seemed to possess him, as he turned to the poor 
child, and in a voice of thunder, inquired, " Who had 
dared to send such a creature as her to insult him ?" 

" Mr. Grayson, our vicar, sir, and young Mr. Gray- 
son, the lawyer, have brought me in a chaise to make 
me a witness," answered Gatty, dropping a very low 
curtsey. 



180 LIFE AND LITERARY REMAINS OF 

Mr. Stilton's manner instantly changed ; he spoke in 
a mild voice, but with a slight sneer, saying : " And 
what are you to tell, my good girl, when you are made 
a witness ?" 

" Exactly the truth, sir ; how I saw you come down 
the lane all in a hurry, look at the top of the deed, 
and then pop it into your bosom and button it fast, 
very fast." 

" Well, and what besides ?" 

" And how you nipped it out again when you heard 
me squeaking out, * it is a sin,' and how you looked 
sorrowful, and so white and wild, I can never forget 
your looks." 

Mr. Stilton was doubtless agonized with remorse at 
this moment, and would gladly have given his whole 
fortune to have been safely freed from what was a 
small portion of it — nevertheless he thought only of 
averting the danger of discovery, and after some time 
spent in cogitation on the subject, he said to Gatty ; 
" You say there was no eye upon this person, whom 
you fancy to be myself, but your own ?" 

" Oh ! yes, sir, God Almighty's eyes were upon you 
then, as they are now. I am sure you must remember 
how you felt at that time, because you feel the same 
just now; it makes you look worse than poor Mr. 
Stepney did, though he went off like you, all thin and 
pale." 

" Go away, go away, girl, this moment, and send my 



BARBARA HOFLAND. 181 

servant, I am ill — very ill," said Mr. Stilton, throwing 
himself on the sofa with a deep groan, and hiding his 
head in the cushions. 

Gatty did not — could not obey. In the deep wretch- 
edness of Mr. Stilton, she saw not less the proof of his 
guilt than of his repentance, and her heart ached with 
compassion so acutely as to subdue every other feeling. 
Drawing nearer, she whispered, in some confusion, but 
with a gentleness and modesty that disarmed resent- 
ment : " Mr. Grayson, I know, wished to avoid the 
servants, so surely I had better not call one just now. 
Pray forgive me, I am but a poor girl, and perhaps 
ought not to speak, but if you would see him, and just 
give back the parchment, all would be well again. He 
quite pities you, sir, as well as dear Miss Eose; indeed, 
he said, you must be the greatest sufferer of the two. 5 ' 

" He is right, quite right ; but I can never see him 
more, it is impossible." 

At that moment the good clergyman entered; he 
had been afraid that Gatty was intruding improperly, 
and as he approached the subdued invalid, he made a 
motion for her to withdraw, which she obeyed gladly, 
but by the expression of her countenance he saw not 
only that she had been right, but that Mr. Stilton had 
in one sense owned himself wrong. 

What passed between the detected criminal, and 
that merciful, though upright minister, who sought not 
" to break the bruised reed", we know not, but it may 
suffice to say, that within an hour he placed in the 



182 LIFE AND LITERARY REMAINS OF 

hands of his son the long lost title-deeds of the injured 
orphan, together with a considerable sum of money due 
to her for those years in which " she had suffered ad- 
versity", but had most happily secured the best lessons 
it conveys. 

Seldom has one carriage contained three such happy 
persons as those who now hastened to communicate 
their success to her who was most interested in it, 
yet all were serious — all felt much for the man who 
had in one unhappy moment fallen " from his high 
estate" as an honest man, and been from that hour 
miserable in his possession, yet incapable of refunding 
it, lest his reputation should suffer, and vainly re- 
pentant before God, because he failed in restitution to 
his injured fellow-creature. 

He did not, however, fulfil Gatty's prophesy, and 
" fall with the leaf"; on the contrary, he regained his 
health, resumed his duties in society, and though he 
was a more humble man than he had been before, he 
became in time a more cheerful one ; and when, about 
two years afterwards, he found that Miss Stepney was 
likely to marry young Grayson, and remove to London, 
he once more ventured to appear at Ridgetown as a 
friend. On this occasion he proved that his penitence 
was genuine, not only by the kindness of his conduct 
to the young people, but from his anxiety to benefit 
poor Gatty, for whom he purchased the cottage of her 
benefactress, and also settled upon her forty pounds a 
year. 



BARBARA HOFLAND. 183 

Astonished by the greatness of her acquisitions, and 
perhaps incapable of believing he could give so freely 
his own money, after coveting that of another, Gatty 
concluded that Mr. Stilton was thus purchasing conti- 
nued silence on the subject of his awful secret, and she 
hastily assured him, " that after holding her tongue so 
long by his reverence's desire, she could surely do it 
for the rest of her life." 

" For the rest of my life is all I desire on this 
point," he replied; " but know, Gertrude, I give you 
this in consequence of holding you in the light of one 
appointed by Providence to reprove my sin, lead me in 
self-abasement to the throne of mercy, and enable me 
to restore her due to the daughter of my early bene- 
factor." 

" Well then, sir, I can take it with a safe conscience 
very thankfully ; I shall make my poor old aunt very 
comfortable, and send your honour the finest flowers 
that ever were seen, and plenty of heart's-ease among 
them." B. H. 



Mrs. Hofland continued to woo the Muses, even 
in her declining years. Among the poetic effu- 
sions of this later period of her literary life, are 
two which attracted considerable attention at the 
time, as relating to events of peculiar national 
interest — the marriage of the Queen, and the birth 
of the Princess Royal. In the former, she pre- 



184 LIFE AND LITERARY REMAINS OF 

supposes the royal nuptials, and confines herself 
to the retirement of the " happy couple'" to Wind- 
sor Castle. The editor of the journal* in which 
it appeared, thus introduces it in his account of 
the proceedings : — " The following has reached 
us, from one whose instructive pen must have 
afforded many an hour's gratification to our youth- 
ful Queen": — 

THE ARRIVAL. 

The pomp, the pageantry, the crowd are fled, — 
Now may I press thee freely to my heart, 

Dismiss the deep solicitude — the dread 
Love to his votaries ever must impart, 

Till the last knot is tied — the blessing given, 

And earth receives the brightest boon of Heaven. 

Now may I look into those dove-like eyes, 
And read my welcome in their tender light ; 

Gaze like the miser on my peerless prize, 
Or, with the poet's pure, supreme delight, 

Through time's long vista see my joys expand 

Blest in thy love, and proud of thy command. 

Hail to thy towers, old Windsor ! thou hast seen 
Full many a royal, many a gracious pair 

Of lofty spirit, and of lovely mien, 
Content life's pleasures and its pains to share, 

* " The Naval and Military Gazette". 



BARBARA HOFLAND. 185 

Who in these shades their happiest hours have found, 
Not less by faithful love than sovereign glory crown'd. 

Yet think not, Royal Maid, thy Albert asks, 
The time, the preference, duty may decry ; 

Thy power and greatness have their sacred tasks ; 
But if the heart's fond homage can supply 

By love — unalterable love — the power 

To sweeten all — such love is now thy dower. 

B. H. 

The Princess Royal was born on the 21st of 
November. The expected event had been a 
source of anxious interest ; and although the 
nation, perhaps, felt some slight disappointment 
that Her Majesty's first-born was not a prince, 
the birth was yet hailed with loyal enthusiasm. 
Our authoress, it is evident, participated largely 
in the joyous feeling which it excited: — 

ODE 

INSCRIBED TO THE INFANT PRINCESS ROYAL. 

Welcome, sweet babe ! though rude and wild 

November's winds around thee blow, 
Ne'er will they reach thee, royal child, 

Or blight the beauty of thy brow. 
Safe shelter' d in thy palace -nest, 

And pillow'd on the queenly breast, 
Britannia's winter rose shall grow, 

By each revolving season blest. 



186 LIFE AND LITERARY REMAINS OF 

Hail to thy advent, fairy gem 

In thy glad mother's diadem, 

No brilliant hath so pure a light 

As those soft twinkling eyes of thine ; 

Nor love, nor empire, ever shed 

So bright a halo round her head, 

As thou, her first-born babe, hath bade to shine. 

Thrice welcome regal, gentle guest, 

Thou comest at a glorious time,* 
When tidings from the hallow'd East, 

Blend in the mind with thoughts sublime, 
By justice call'd, by valour led, 

O'er Syria's fields and Judah's plains, 
Thy sovereign-mother's troops are spread — 

Their banners wave on Acre's fanes. 
Old Balbec's marble columns glow 

In the bright glance of British spears, 
And Lebanon's eternal snow 

Smiles, as the conqu'ring band appears, 
While all her cedar groves rejoice 

To hear the Christian soldier's voice. 

Thou too, fair babe, wilt on them smile, 
The guardians of thy native isle, 
Her pride, her honour, and her stay, 
Thine too, perchance, in future day ; 
If to that fragile form 'tis given, 
To prove the delegate of Heaven : — 

* News of the capture of Acre, by Sir R. Stopford, had 
been received a few days before. 



BARBARA HOFLAND. 187 

And oh ! may He of royal birth, 
Whose blood was shed on Syrian earth, 
Give thee, when life's best joys are o'er, 
The crown that lasts for evermore. 

B. H. 

The year following she further displayed the 
fervour of her loyalty, and the freshness of her 
poetic mind, by the composition of the following 

STANZAS, 

INSCRIBED TO PRINCE ALBERT, ON HIS BIRTH-DAT. 

Ages on ages, from a princely source 

Hath flowed the current of thy regal blood, 

Displaying in its long and glorious course, 
Whate'er distinguishes the great and good ; 

Valour and justice, honour's high command, 

The power to rescue, or to rule a land. 

Hail to thy natal day ! Oh ! last and best 
Of all the worthies of thine ancient race, 

On whom a father's blessings proudly rest ; 
As from thy cradle he can fondly trace 

Courage and talent — gentleness and truth, 

The strength of manhood, and the fire of youth. 

And hail ! thrice hail ! the day when thou wert given, 

To be the partner of earth's noblest throne, 
And share the sweetest boon bestow'd by Heaven ; 
For love and beauty's treasures had outshone 
In thy young generous bosom, every claim 
That wins ambition's wish, or knows no selfish aim. 



188 LIFE AND LITERARY REMAINS OF 

Blest be the gifted mind — the open mien, 

That spread life's solace through the royal bower, 

Where smiles thy blue-eyed babe, thy beauteous Queen, 
(The opening rose-bud, and the perfect flower ;) 

They know thee kindly, tender, upright, just, 
True to thy vows, and worthy of thy trust. 

Year after year, on this auspicious day, 

May the loud trumpet hail thy natal morn ; 

And shouting millions swell the festive lay 
That sings, " for us was princely Albert born, 

His loving cares our gracious Queen sustain, 

His virtues are her pride, — God bless the twain." 

B. H. 

Nor was the expression, at this time, of her 
attachment to the Royal Family confined to 
Queen Victoria, her Royal Consort, and their 
first-born Princess. It was the period of Queen 
Adelaide's severest suffering under that painful 
affliction which caused so much anxiety and alarm 
on her account; and the following feeling lines 
were called forth by the circumstance : — 



TO THE QUEEN DOWAGER. 

Illustrious sufferer ! many a prayer for thee, 

Warm from the heart, to God's high throne ascends, 
And many an humble soul submissive bends, 

"Mongst those that seldom bend the suppliant knee, 






BARBARA HOFLAND. 189 

Yet, deeply venerating, own the power 

Of Him, the Merciful, — thy faith, thy dower. 

The wand 'ring shepherd near thy neighbouring hills 
Beholds the glowing stars, and seems to see 
That brilliant home which thy abode shall be : 
Yet tears of woe his glistening eye-balls fill, 
And with clasp'd hands he seeks the poor man's boon, — 
u Oh ! take her not, good Lord ! so soon ! — so soon !" 

The weather-beaten seaman — though the gale 
His masts have splinter'd, and his sails have rent, 
And on his stalwart form its fierceness spent — 
Checks all complaint, thy sickness to bewail : 
The good, the gracious Queen, from whom did spring 
All joy, all comfort, to his u Sailor-King /" 

Still be thou spared to us, illustrious Queen ! 
For we are selfish, and, though grateful, weak — 
And tears, and prayers, our hearts' true homage speak. 

We trust that thou who hast earth's angel been, 

May still for some blest years be spared to shoTV 

What such pure spirits may effect below. 

B. H. 



190 LIFE AND LITERARY REMAINS OF 



CHAPTER IX. 

FRESH AFFLICTIONS MR. HOFLAND's ILLNESS AND 

DEATH — HIS CHARACTER AS AN ARTIST DEVOTION 

TO ANGLING LOVE OF THE PICTURESQUE — THE 

POET WORDSWORTH — SYMPATHY WITH MRS. HOFLAND 
— EXCURSION TO PARIS — HER LAST WORK — VISIT 
TO HER FRIENDS IN YORKSHIRE — RETURN TO RICH- 
MOND. 

We are now brought to the period when new 
afflictions befel our excellent authoress. She had 
acquired a degree of fame, of which one more 
ambitious might have been proud ; she had gained, 
by her talents and industry, a competency of this 
world's goods ; she had secured by her reputation 
and her virtues "troops of friends"; and the even- 
ing of her life was wearing away in calm and 
pleasurable enjoyment. But this happiness was 
not to continue uninterrupted ; the time was at 
hand when she was again to experience the sor- 
rows and the cares of widowhood. 



BARBARA HOFLAND. 191 

" Thus sometimes hath the brightest day a cloud ; 
And after summer ever more succeeds 
Chill winter, with his watchful nipping cold : 
So cares and joys abound, as seasons fleet." 

Mr. Hofland had gone to Italy, having a com- 
mission from the Earl of Egremont, his patron 
and friend, to paint a number of pictures, the sub- 
jects of which were to be selected from sketches 
he was to make of the sublime scenery and archi- 
tectural beauties of that classic land. He had long 
desired to visit Italy, above all other countries ; 
and the patronage of the munificent nobleman 
just named, not only afforded him the opportunity 
of doing so, but exhibited in his later life an in- 
stance of aristocratic patronage, so different from 
that which embittered his early struggles, that it 
is gratifying to record it, as not only being a more 
worthy, but also a more true example of the kind 
of encouragement afforded to art and artists by 
the nobility of England. " He set out," says Mrs. 
Hofland, " with all the ardent solicitude so natural 
to an artist. He made, at Naples, Castel-a-mare, 
Pompeii, Home, Tivoli, and Florence," she con- 
tinues, "between seventy and eighty beautiful 
sketches, but became, in the latter city, so ex- 
ceedingly ill, that he set out suddenly, in a hope 
that appeared almost vain, of reaching home again 



192 LIFE AND LITERARY REMAINS OF 

Happily, as he passed through France, the fever 
left him ; but its ravages were terrible ; more than 
twenty years seemed added to his age during five 
months' absence ; nevertheless, his spirits were 
elated, and he hastened to lay the fruits of his 
labours before his noble patron, of whose judg- 
ment he had the highest opinion, and whose ap- 
probation was most important." From these 
sketches twelve were selected, and he tried to 
finish five of the pictures; but he soon became 
too feeble to apply himself to the task with the 
requisite energy and diligence. In the October of 
the following year, his health had so far declined, 
as to render him incapable of any great exertion. 
Writing at this time, Mrs. Hofland says — "I am 
grieved to add, that my poor husband continues a 
great sufferer, and all our good doctor's medicines 
produce no effect. He can eat nothing ; and, of 
course, his weakness increases, and his spirits fail 
entirely : it is with great difficulty that I keep up 
mine ; but, thank God, my health is better than 
it has been in winter for some years.' This state 
of her husband's health grew so much worse, that 
his removal to some salubrious spot was strongly 
urged as a last resort. But let Mrs. Hofland her- 
self give the melancholy particulars. 

" After ten or twelve weeks of suffering' , , writes 



BARBARA HOFLAND. 193 

the anxious wife, " being earnestly requested by 
our excellent friend, Dr. Grant, to change the air 
and scene, he suddenly resolved on going to Lea- 
mington, having for the last twenty years desired to 
know Dr. Jephson, of that place, in consequence of 
his services to several of our friends. The doctor 
was most kind and valuable," she adds, " but 
the waters disagreed with him ; and in the third 
week all hope ceased, even with me, — with him- 
self it had long been gone ; but the circumstance 
of my own recovery under Dr. Grant's care, though 
several years the elder, had rendered me too hope- 
ful. Violent hemorrhage (showing the true cause 
of my dear husband's severe sufferings for more 
than thirty years) revealed the truth — he died of 
cancer in the stomach." Hofland expired in the 
arms of his devoted wife, whom for several succes- 
sive days he could not endure to be absent from 
his side. 

This was undoubtedly a great bereavement, for 
they had been married nearly five-and-thirty years, 
and had shared all this time many pleasures, and 
many cares. She was, besides, devotedly attached 
to her husband ; and although she had had much 
— very much — to complain of, she had lost none 
of her warm affection for him ; and whenever 
she deeply suffered, she as freely forgave, and 

13 



194 LIFE AND LITERARY REMAINS OF 

the remembrance of her wrongs passed away for 
ever. 

A notice of the deceased in the Art Journal, 

gave a faithful account of him professionally. 

" We had the privilege", it is observed, "of ranking 
among the friends of the late Mr. Holland, and, with 
all who knew him, very deeply lament his death ; his 
loss will not easily be supplied, either to society or to 
the arts. In reference to his position as an artist, we 
gladly adopt the opinion of a brother artist — one of 
Mr. Holland's oldest and most accomplished friends — 
who conveys to us in these terms his notions of Mr. 
Holland's professional reputation : — 

" With whatever peculiarities of manner the critics 
may charge some of his more recent works, when in 
the decline of health, — there was an elevation, both of 
style and thought, which pervaded his larger composi- 
tions, not unworthy of Poussin ; which all admirers of 
landscape art must recollect, whose memories can serve 
them for twenty or five-and-twenty years back. His 
' Richmond Hill' is a bold and effective landscape, 
and will be esteemed as long as the material endures : 
his ' Jerusalem' had a solemn and unaffected grandeur 
about it, which I well remember impressed all who 
saw it, on its exhibition in the British Gallery. Hof- 
land was a man of reading, and did not confine all his 
hours to the drudgeries of the easel : he had a high 
idea of his art, and sought to convey an impression of 



BARBARA HOFLAND. 195 

its mental power in all his compositions. He had very- 
little value for the prettinesses so indispensable in the 
landscapes ' painted for the eye', which are now so 
much in vogue. It was not little displays of taste here, 
or bits of execution there, which he aimed at, but a 
well-studied and poetically-conceived whole. His con- 
versations upon art were always highly intelligent, and 
he was ever an eloquent advocate of its claims on the 
respect of the educated and the refined ; while no one 
could discourse more fairly and unprejudicedly respect- 
ing the deserts of his contemporaries. He was an 
enthusiastic lover of the angle, and a first-rate practi- 
tioner ; and he invariably united his art with it in all 
his piscatory expeditions ; and in the artistical sketch- 
ing clubs held, not at Mr. A.'s or Mr. B.'s, but sub 
die, in nature's own drawing-room, on Hampstead 
Heath, or in Greenwich Park, Richmond, or Windsor 
Forest, he was ever a necessary member. He did much 
to implant a right feeling for high landscape art in his 
day, — a feeling which when once entertained and appre- 
ciated by the public, must stimulate the artists of 
Britain to rival the best days of Claude and of Poussin, 
if indeed they have not rivalled them already." 

To his enthusiasm and excellence in the art 
of angling, I can also bear personal testimony. 
Many years ago we had several piscatory rambles 
together, among some of the finest scenery of 



196 LIFE AND LITERARY REMAINS OF 

Cumberland ; and he never failed to make them 
subservient to the purposes of his art. It was a 
great treat to stand at his side gazing upon a rich 
landscape, or a romantic lake and mountain scene, 
and hear him point out the most striking and 
picturesque features, and those harmonies and 
contrasts, which constitute their charm. I have 
met with no one either more enthusiastic or 
more discerning in this taste for the rural and the 
romantic in scenery, except, perhaps, the poet 
Wordsworth, in company with whom I once had 
the pleasure of visiting Patterdale. We walked 
up the Westmoreland side of the lake of Ulles- 
water, with that ardent and estimable lover of 
nature, to see a little sacred spot of his own, 
in which nothing but a little rustic cottage then 
stood, and from which he pointed out one of the 
most exquisite lake and mountain scenes it has 
ever been my lot to behold ; for certainly nothing 
that I had seen in Rhineland could excel, or 
scarcely equal it. The view was bounded by the 
bold hills above Glenridding, of which Hofland 
himself had a high appreciation, and which formed 
the subject of one of the happiest efforts of his 
pencil. Wordsworth was in ecstacies all the way 
we went, for at every hundred yards new and 
varying beauties disclosed themselves, — but when 



BARBARA HOFLAND. 197 

we reached the destined point of view, whence we 
beheld the very acme of the picturesque and the 
romantic, he was enraptured beyond description ; 
and as he descanted on the enchanting features of 
the scene, he was " the old man eloquent" in all 
his glory. The amiable and accomplished author 
of Cyril Thornton was of the party ; and he — as 
indeed did all present — partook largely and warmly 
of the venerable poet's enthusiasm, the heightened 
effect of which he himself has called, — 

"A motion and a spirit, that impels 
All thinking things, all objects of all thought, 
And rolls through all things." 

It is this motion and spirit operating on the mind, 
which constitutes alike the poet and the painter. 
Wordsworth himself has acknowledged it in his 
own immortal verse. " Therefore", he says, — 

" Therefore am I still 
A lover of the meadows and the woods, 
And mountains, and of all that we behold 
From this green earth ; of all the mighty world 
Of eye and ear, — both what they half create, 
And what perceive ; well pleased to recognize 
In nature and the language of the sense 
The anchor of my present thoughts, the muse, 
The guide, the guardian of my heart, and soul 
Of all my moral being." 



198 LIFE AND LITERARY REMAINS OF 

But to return from this digression. Under her 
severe loss, Mrs. Hofland failed not to receive all 
the kind and considerate attentions which are so 
consolatory to the mourning spirit. She had a host 
of affectionate friends, having hearts and minds 
congenial with her own ; and by them she was now 
to be comforted and cherished. 

One of the most devoted of these friends, and 
one for whom she entertained a warm attachment, 
was Mr. Alfred J. Roberts of Hammersmith, who, 
from his near neighbourhood to Richmond/had it 
in his power to shew her many kindnesses, which 
now he was the more careful and constant in be- 
stowing. Her notes to him at this time evince 
her warm appreciation of his friendship, while they 
exhibit the calm serenity of her mind. He was 
one of the first to communicate his condolence on 
her bereavement, and to invite her to his house. 
Writing to him from Leamington, she says in 
reply :— 

" Accept my best thanks for your kind sympathy, 
which I am sure is most sincere. I cannot come to 
you now. I must learn to bear my desolate home at 
first; it is my only burden, and I have many things to 
see about which will be good for me. I write a hasty 
note to tell you, that my good friend Mr. Sambourne 
came here last night, in order to see after things for 



BARBARA HOFLAND. 199 

me, and to follow my poor husband's remains. We 
had been obliged to bury in the morning, and the kind 
clergyman and a friend of his went as mourners, and 
the last duties were performed very properly, so that 
his kind intentions were forestalled, to his grief. His 
visit is most valuable to me, because he will take care 
of me home, and take all trouble off my hands, which 
is a great matter to me who am always ill in travelling. 
Be so good as tell dear Sir John Philippart, as it will, 
I know, relieve his mind on my account." 

She returned to Richmond a few days after- 
wards; and there kind neighbours and warm- 
hearted friends soon convinced her that she was 
not left desolate. Early in the ensuing summer 
she made an excursion, with a pleasant party, to 
France. Alluding to this jaunt in a note to Mr. 
Roberts, she said : — 

" I shall set off, I trust, with every reason to hope 
for health and comfort, and a safe return. At my time 
of life, however, all is doubtful. Should I be taken, 
accept, dear Alfred, my warm thanks for your unceas- 
ing kindness to me, and your true affection for me. 

Miss H will shew you proof that I never ceased to 

love and esteem you. Present me most respectfully to 
your dear ladies. I will try to give you a line from 
France, but my friend here scolds me for writing so 
much. May God bless you, prays your very sincere 
friend, Barbara Hofland." 



200 LIFE AND LITERARY REMAINS OF 

One result of this excursion was her last little 
work, " Emily's Reward, or a Trip to Paris." 

The object of this little book was, she states in 
her Preface, " that of awakening a desire for 
knowledge, thereby stimulating youth to seek it 
in the many excellent volumes which the present 
state of literature provides for their information, 
but which they will rarely desire, until they have 
been prompted by pleasurable excitement," — add- 
ing, that the work " makes no pretensions to 
supersede any of the excellent ' Hand-books'' and 
' Guides to Paris' already printed, but rather seeks 
to lead the young reader to examine whatever be- 
longs either to the description or the history of 
that great and interesting country of which it is 
the capital." The accounts it gives of Paris, and 
many of the incidents it relates, were evidently the 
fruits of her own " trip". She dedicated it to 
Louisa Mary, the daughter of A. J. B. Hope, 
Esq., M.P., and the Lady Mildred Hope, " in 
recollection of a similar work inscribed to her 
father, and in the earnest hope that it may here- 
after contribute to her amusement and informa- 
tion." This it cannot have failed to do, with all 
its young readers. 

Soon after her return home, she went on a visit 



BARBARA HOFLAND. 201 

to Yorkshire, where she had still many worthy- 
relatives and attached friends, who were anxious 
to show their sympathy and respect for her in this 
her second widowhood. Writing to Mr. Roberts 
at this time from Sheffield, she says : — 

" I have this moment got the very kind letter you 
wrote to me at Paris ; it was returned in the ambas- 
sador's bag. I should have written to you, by the 
way, without this as a remembrancer, to say that I got 
quite safe to my native town, after a journey of nine 
hours and a half, which seems little short of a miracle, 
as we stopped twenty minutes twice. I was tired ; 
but a day's quietness restored me, and I am now as 
well as possible, save my breath; and of that I must 
not complain. My Heavenly Father deals with me 
very gently; life has been stormy with me, but I trust 

my sun will set peacefully I have this morning 

received six letters, of which four must be answered, 
so I ought to say good bye ; but our pen lingers when 
we write to those on whom the heart has reliance. I 
shall not be sorry when the time comes that we sit 

cosily round the fire at Ormond Place, Miss H 

talking of France on one side of you, and Emily W 

listening on the other, as I hope to bring the latter with 

me Adieu ! continue to think kindly of me, and 

believe me, my dear friend, yours very faithfully, 

" B. HOFLAND." 



202 



LIFE AND LITERARY REMAINS OF 



She returned home before the summer was quite 
ended, and during the autumn and winter months 
the time did come, over and over again, when she 
and her attached friends sat " cosily round the fire 
in Ormond Place." 



BARBARA HOFLAND. 203 



CHAPTER X. 

WARNINGS OF HER LATTER END — ATTACHMENT TO HER 
LATE HUSBAND'S PICTURES HER LAST WORK — SON- 
NETS — -RESUMES HER HABIT OF WRITING — SAD ACCI- 
DENT—LAST ILLNESS — DEATH— NEGLECTED BY THE 

CLERGY — OPINIONS OF HER WORKS MRS. HALL'S 

ESTIMATE OF HER CHARACTER — MONUMENT IN RICH- 
MOND CHURCH-YARD. 

We now approach the last days of Mrs. HoflancTs 
long and useful life — that life which, according to 
her own account, as already given, " had been a 
stormy one", but whose sun, as she had trusted it 
would be, was about to " set peacefully". 

" The days of our age", says the Psalmist, " are 
three score years and ten"; but her days had 
already far exceeded that number ; and though in 
general her health was good, she had received 
many warnings of the decay of her vital powers, 
which told her emphatically that the day of their 
employment was far spent, and the night was at 
hand when they could be exerted no longer. 



204 LIFE AND LITERARY REMAINS OF 

In the autumn of 1843 she had a severe attack 
of illness, which alarmed her friends for her safety; 
but she afterwards rallied surprisingly. Writing 
a few days before Christmas, she states : — " I am, 
my doctor says, quite free from disease, though 
very weak yet : however, that is little matter ; the 
worst is, that I have scarcely any appetite ; but I 
dined well to-day, so that is mending". She was 
enabled to enjoy the social pleasures of her little 
circle during much of the remainder of the winter. 
In a note written soon after the one just quoted, 
she said, — "I have been expecting my old enemy, 
as the consequence of intense cold on the one 
hand, and awakened feeling on the other ; but I 
now trust I shall escape, from guarding against 
both". And so she did, for a short time. The 
" awakened feeling" she referred to was, doubtless, 
that produced by the melancholy reflections of the 
anniversary of her husband's death, the only one 
she lived to see. A few weeks afterwards, she 
writes, — " I am much better on the whole, but 
harassed with business about catalogues; and a 
little overdoes me". The "catalogues" alluded 
to, were those containing Hofland's pictures, which 
were about to be exhibited for sale. Writing in 
May, she observes, — " Alas ! all my pictures are 
gone ! I am nearly in the condition of Macduff, 



BARBARA HOFLAND. 205 

crying out, " What, all my pretty ones? did you say 
all ? all ? at one fell swoop P However, in a day 
or two I shall be reconciled ; having, as I trust, 
placed them in the best way of increasing the fame 
of my husband. The ' Jerusalem' is indeed a 
magnificent picture: surely it will pay for the 
frame. I expect little more ; but I do earnestly 
wish it a good situation. I got up too soon : but 
I am still very brave". These extracts evince a 
still vigorous mind, and as warm affections as 
ever. Her attachment to her husband's pictures, 
and her anxiety for his fame, are characteristics of 
that generous and kindly nature, for which she 
was ever remarkable. 

It was not until the summer of 1844, that 
she put her last work to press. It has already 
been mentioned — Emily s Heward, or the Holiday 
Trip to Paris. The preface is dated Richmond, 
August 8, 1844 ; and the concluding paragraph 
may be regarded as her farewell of that public 
before which she had appeared as a popular writer 
for nearly forty years. " The great circulation 
given to her former works," she remarks, " and the 
still more gratifying assurance from many parents 
and friends of their real utility, render the writer 
extremely anxious, yet humbly hopeful, that this 
(which both age and infirmity mark as her last), 



206 LIFE AND LITERARY REMAINS OF 

will not be found the least useful in awakening a 
praiseworthy curiosity, and in cherishing those 
domestic affections which are allied to the noblest 
energies and the purest virtues." 

These anticipations were correct. It was her 
last work. " Age and infirmity" kept creeping 
on, surely and sensibly. She had several attacks 
of erysipelas in the head, but her general health 
was unusually good, and her friends indulged the 
hope that, although she must now relinquish her 
pen for ever, they might continue to enjoy for 
some time to come her cheerful and instructive 
society. The following Sonnets, both written in 
one day, possess more than ordinary interest, as 
the production of a person at the age of seventy- 
four years, and one whose life had been so various 
and so trying as that of Mrs. Holland had been : — 

SONNET. 

A DAY OF DISAPPOINTMENT. 

Sullen and cold the low'ring morn appears, 
Damping our promised bliss to meet to-day, 
The gentle and the good, the young and gay ; 
For all above, the clouds' dark livery wears, 
And Nature smiles as one that smiles thro' tears, — 
Farewell, then, to our hopes ; but not farewell 
To the far better hopes, that days more bright 
Shall bid those young and generous bosoms swell, 
Thro' many a coming year with pure delight. 



BARBARA HOFLAND. 207 

Oh ! brilliant be their morn, and calm their night, 
And many a roseate hour their pleasures tell, 
Ere rolling time presumes such joy to blight ; 
Yet time shall only change the heart's emplo}^ 
From gaiety's bright smile, to heartfelt, sober joy. 
Richmond, April 12, 1844. B. H. 



SONNET 

INSCRIBED TO MISS ELIZABETH BUSHNELL. 

Spring days and albums are congenial things, 
They breathe of tufted violets — blossoms caught 
Before their promise — the blythe insects' wings — 
The laugh of childhood, and all objects fraught 
With the young loveliness that gushing springs 
In early life and early months unsought. 
As in a garden, so in each fair page 
Adorn'd by painters' or by poets' skill, 
The mind may find gay scenes, or precepts sage, 
Culling rich chaplets at its own glad will ; 
And wise it is, dear girl, you should engage 
Such joys to taste, such duty to fulfil ; 
But all unmeet for such sweet task am I, 
The flowers of spring bloom not 'neath winter's sky. 
April 12, 1844. B. H. 

Somewhat reinvigorated during the fine sum- 
mer of 1844, she was enabled to enter freely into 
that social converse, to which her own contribu- 
tions of anecdote and information were generally 



208 LIFE AND LITERARY REMAINS OF 

the greatest ornament. She had, on two or three 
occasions, written what she professed should be her 
" last work", but had been unable to resist the in- 
ducement to undertake another, and still another. 
But Emilys Beivard was the very last ; and yet 
she could not restrain herself from indulgence in 
her old habit of writing, which she sometimes 
continued many hours after all the rest of her 
household had retired to rest, and this practice 
occasioned an accident which hastened her end. 
On her w T ay up-stairs, after one of these " sessions 
of sweet silent thought" and literary occupation, 
she either missed her footing or trod upon her 
dress, and, falling down the flight of steps, strained 
herself severely. She lay insensible, it was sup- 
posed, for a considerable time, and although no 
fatal injury was apparent, her system had evidently 
received a shock which, at her advanced age, it 
was ill prepared to sustain. She lived for some 
weeks afterwards, however, although in a feeble 
state, and the immediate cause of her death was 
another attack of erysipelas in the head, which she 
had not now the strength to " throw off". Under 
this additional affliction she lingered for two or 
three weeks, receiving every attention from her 
many affectionate friends and kind neighbours, 
and the gratuitous and most assiduous medical 



BARBARA HOFLAND. 209 

care of Dr. Grant, of Richmond. It was only at 
intervals that she was sensible of what was passing 
around her, and then she took pains to show how 
gratefully she appreciated the attentions she was 
receiving ; and in the last flickering moments of 
consciousness, while commending herself to her 
Saviour and her God, her unselfish and loving 
soul forgot not to implore blessings, with equal 
earnestness, upon her fellow-creatures, to promote 
whose improvement, and increase whose happiness, 
had been with her a "labour of love" all her life 
long. 

Her remains were consigned to a vault in Rich- 
mond church-yard, whither they were followed by 
some of the most constant and devoted of those 
friends to whom, by her virtues and talents, she 
had so justly endeared herself. 

But to many it may well be a subject of serious 
concern, that though Mrs. Hofland had so fully 
entitled herself to the regard of the Church, she 
should have received throughout life, and even 
in her dying hours, so little attention from that 
quarter. On her own account, and for the sake of 
society — this is a matter of regret, but it is one of 
deep reproach to the Church itself, in whose holy 
cause she was constantly labouring, though by no 
means with that effect which might have followed, 

14 



210 LIFE AND LITERARY REMAINS OF 

had she but been encouraged and directed by the 
countenance and counsel of those, who have not 
only a more direct interest, but a higher responsi- 
bility, in that which she had so much at heart, and 
which she did so much to advance— the moral and 
religious improvement of the young. The clergy 
might have availed themselves, with manifest ad- 
vantage, of the efforts of a pen so pious, yet so 
popular, as Mrs. Holland's. They might have 
made her an invaluable handmaid to their own 
higher ministrations. But instead of this, there 
was never, on any occasion, of which there is the 
least evidence, the slightest advance on their part 
towards one, who was not only most highly quali- 
fied to co-operate with them in their endeavours to 
promote Christian knowledge, and enforce Chris- 
tian duty, but who, by her own Christian graces 
and labours, possessed so great a claim to their 
regard. Surely these are circumstances we may 
well wonder at and lament. Had the clergy sought 
the acquaintance, and the assistance, of such a 
writer, they might have given a still better direc- 
tion to her literary talents, or, at any rate, they 
might have given a higher and more decided 
Church tone to her writings. But, no, — they 
all, with one consent, stood aloof, as if afraid of 
the contact, though a very little reflection must 



BARBARA HOFLAND. 211 

have convinced them, that she who gave her only- 
son to the sacred ministry of the Church, must 
surely have a favourable disposition, to say the 
least of it, towards their holy order, and to the 
cause to which they had devoted their lives. I 
cannot discover that she was at any time the ob- 
ject of pastoral visitation, or of pastoral care or 
concern in any way, at any period of her long 
residence in London or its suburbs. It would 
have been interesting, one would have thought, as 
well as dutiful, on the part of him who was " set 
over her in the Lord", to have made her the ob- 
ject of such ministrations: but it was never done. 
And as it had been in her life, so was it in her 
death — she received, during her last illness, no 
pastoral attention, and had no spiritual consola- 
tion, save that only which, in the moments of 
composure and collectedness, she found in the re- 
sources of her own pious mind. " Others must 
relieve the sick," says Bishop Jeremy Taylor, in 
his exposition of the minister's duty in life, " but 
you must take care of them ; others must shew 
themselves their brethren, but you must be their 
fathers ; they must c watch and pray that they 
fall not into temptation"', but you must watch for 
yourselves and others too ; the people must mourn 
when they sin, but you must mourn for your own 



212 LIFE AND LITERARY REMAINS OF 

infirmities and for the sins of others ; and what 
shame was ever greater than is described in the 
parable of the traveller going from Jerusalem to 
Jericho, when, to the eternal dishonour of the 
Levite and the priest, it is told, that they went 
aside and saw him with a wry neck and a bended 
head, and let him alone, and left him to be cured 
by the good Samaritan. Kemember", adds the 
pious prelate — the English Chrysostom, "your 
dignity, to which Christ hath called you : ' Shall 
such a man as I flee", said the brave Eleazar, ' shall 
the stars be darkness, shall the ambassadors of 
Christ neglect to do their king honour?' " Yet, 
flee they did from the house of death, where the 
gentle spirit of Barbara Hofland was preparing to 
take its flight to those everlasting habitations, to 
which the good pastor may generally " point the 
way" with so much consolation to the departing 
soul, and benefit to the living. 

" Some pious drops the closing eye requires", 

and who so able, who so proper to supply them, 
as he whose duty it is to " watch for souls as one 
that must give account"? No duty is more plainly 
incumbent upon the parochial clergy than this. 
They are not to wait, but to watch. " When any 
person is dangerously sick in any parish", says the 



BARBARA HOFLAND. 213 

sixty-seventh of our Canons Ecclesiastical, " the 
minister or curate, having knowledge thereof, shall 
resort unto him or her, to instruct and comfort 
them in their distress." And, again — " and when 
any is passing out of this life, a bell shall be tolled, 
and the minister shall not then be slack to do his 
last duty." These are intelligible and solemn in- 
junctions. Why, then, was not Barbara Hofland 
aided and consoled in her extremity by an ob- 
servance of them ? There was full knowledge of 
her sickness, and of its being " unto death". No 
conventional usage, no mere etiquette, can excuse 
such neglects. 

" He that negociates between God and man, 
As God's ambassador, the grand concerns 
Of judgment and of mercy", — 

he whose place it is to perform the solemn duties 
which claim observance at the last, and in whose 
performance of them, issues of such awful moment 
are often involved, ought not to be restrained by 
any mere worldly considerations. 

I have thus dwelt upon this, because it has 
struck me as a thing, if, unhappily, not extraordi- 
nary, at any rate most censurable and outrageous, 
that one like my lamented friend — an humble 
Christian and a conscientious church woman — 



214 LIFE AND LITERARY REMAINS OF 

should be permitted to die in a Christian land, 
and almost under the shadow of her parish church, 
without ever having had offered to her the ghostly- 
counsels and consolations of Christianity, and the 
solemn rites and benedictions of the Church. 

There has never been, as far as I am aware, 
much difference of opinion as to the general merits 
of Mrs. Holland as an authoress, whatever may be 
thought of the relative merits of particular pro- 
ductions of her pen. The following judgment of 
the Literary Gazette is as true and just as it is 
graceful and forcible : — 

" Mrs. Holland's voluminous writings are all per- 
fectly feminine in character. Easy and graceful, with 
remarkable fertility of invention, they display much 
pathos and power of imagination. Without entering, 
however, into any critical analysis of her works, which 
are too well known to require it, we shall here content 
ourselves with transcribing a few lines from a sketch 
that was written some years ago : — ' As the inculcator 
of the vital importance of fixed principles of justice, 
honour, and integrity — of Christian virtues founded 
upon Christian faith — of all that is truly noble in man 
and lovely in woman — Mrs. Holland, from the nature 
of her compositions, and the extent of their circulation, 
has perhaps done more than any other writer of the 
day. The religion which she makes the groundwork 



BARBARA HOFLAND. 2 1 5 

of all this, and which she has the art of making her 
readers teach themselves, is religion in its best form ; 
unobtrusive, and yet unfailing ; gentle, yet active ; 
modest, yet firm ; moderate, kind, and consistent, 
without sourness, bigotry, or enthusiasm. This reli- 
gion she has not only inculcated but practised, under 
trials greater than any she has described.' " 

The testimony which has been borne by a sister 
spirit, Mrs. S. C. Hall, to her literary merits and 
her personal virtues, has already been quoted 
from, but another portion remains to be extracted, 
which may appropriately be given here, as a re- 
view of her character: — 

" I shall never look from Eichmond Hill, or ramble 
in the lovely vale of the Thames, without remembering 
one of the most admirable and excellent women Eng- 
land has ever produced — one who lived not only in the 
exercise of general love and charity, but whose life for 
many years was an example of that quiet, unostenta- 
tious, every-day domestic heroism which both sanctifies 
and glorifies the female character. I think it must be 
nearly twenty years since I first saw Mrs. Hofiand. 
I had longed most earnestly to meet her. 6 The Son 
of a Genius,' a story not only of European but of uni- 
versal popularity, had been one of my first ' story 
books;' and I could not prevent tears gushing from my 
eyes when she took me affectionately by the hand, and 



216 LIFE AND LITERARY REMAINS OF 

said she was sure we should be good friends. We 
walked together the same morning to a private view of 
the Society of British Artists, and she showed me 
with wife-like pride a view from Kichmond Hill 
painted by her husband. One of his very best pictures 
it certainly was ; and well did she know every glade, 
and avenue, and tree, depicted therein. She spoke so 
eloquently of the beauty and richness of English land- 
scape scenery, and more especially of the loveliness and 
sunniness of the banks of the Thames, that I forgot the 
fealty I owed to my native mountains, and thought 
only of the great English river. At that time Mr. and 
Mrs. Holland lived in Newman Street, and her kind 
augury was amply fulfilled. We became friends; and 
I only wish that every woman had such a friend, and 
such an example, as she was to me and all round her. 
In her manners she was perfectly natural, and alto- 
gether free from the plague-spot that marks so many 
literary women — affectation. Her accent still fla- 
voured of Yorkshire; but her plainness of countenance 
was polished by the purest and gentlest benevolence. 
Eeady wit and a keen perception of the ludicrous 
prompted her sometimes to say what, though true, 
would have been called severe if uttered by any one 
else, yet her natural dislike to occasion pain, healed 
before the reproved was conscious of a wound. My 
knowledge of Mrs. Hofland in the domestic relations of 
life was such as rendered me altogether forgetful of her 



BARBARA HOFLAND. 217 

literary fame. Some there are who find it difficult to 
live up to their own printed standard of excellence ; 
but she in her own life was an example of patience, 
forbearance, and devotedness, which if literally reck- 
oned could scarcely be believed. Her unselfishness 
was such as to deserve the term spiritual; and this 
extended to beyond her home. Her friends saw it 
exercised daily towards themselves." 

Home of Mrs. HalFs animadversions on poor 
Hofland have already been noticed. There is an- 
other passage in the article from which I have 
quoted ; and as a further and forcible illustration 
of the character of our authoress, its addition is 
important: — 

" Then she was so fond of young people — so happy 
when her husband's health or inclination permitted her 
to have the innocent enjoyment of surrounding her 
table with cheerful faces. Everybody told her every- 
thing, secure of her aid and her sympathy — her warm, 
generous, earnest sympathy, that listened and advised. 
It is ill to write unkindly of the dead ; and he whose 
harshness caused her virtues to shine so brightly, ho- 
noured her in his heart ; though a long series of years 
of suffering from internal disease rendered him, despite 
his talent and his knowledge, so great a penance to so 
rare a wife. . . . Had it not been for her high religious 
principles, and her buoyant and cheerful nature, Mrs. 



218 LIFE AND LITERARY REMAINS OF 

Holland might be said to have passed a life of mingled 
labour and endurance. She chiefl y wrote at night ; I 
do not remember finding her more than once at her 
desk in the morning ; and her household affairs were 
well ordered. It strikes me as a great advantage to a 
woman, not to commence her literary career until her 
mind is thoroughly established as to her duties; and 
in this Mrs. Hofland, or at all events her family and 
friends, were fortunate. 5 ' 

Such was the excellent woman — as rich in the 
amiable dispositions of her heart, as in the rare 
endowments of her mind — whose life, as I have 
here endeavoured to trace it, exhibits so extraor- 
dinary a combination of virtues and talents, — vir- 
tues, of a kind, and in a degree, so seldom found 
united with literary talents, though less, perhaps, 
from any incongruity in their actual nature, than 
from an unhappy insensibility to their mutual im- 
portance. And such she continued to the end of her 
mortal career. She had undergone but little per- 
ceptible change to within a few weeks of her de- 
cease ; and that little was only such as made her all 
the more interesting and beloved. Her description 
of one of the creations of her own fancy, — the 
heroine of one of the most successful of her tales,* 

* " Decision". 



BARBARA HOFLAND. 219 

— may literally be applied to herself, in almost the 
last days of her long life : — 

" The activity of her habits preserved her fine form, 
her light step, and the quickness of her eye ; and al- 
though the rapidity of her ideas, the strictness of her 
methodical arrangements, and the determinate charac- 
ter of her mind, rendered her occasionally subject to a 
quick mode of speech, and an unbending gait, there 
was an openness of countenance, an assurance of pro- 
tection, and a full, frank kindness of reception about 
her which enabled every honest child of sorrow to lay 
his wants before her with ease — the mean and the 
wicked shrunk before her eye." 

Yet all this was in the retirement of her own 
private circle ; for of her, though so popular an 
authoress, it may truly be said, that — 

u Along the cool, sequester'd vale of life, 
She kept the noiseless tenor of her way." 

Few public writers of either sex, probably, 
have kept themselves more retired from personal 
publicity than Mrs. Holland did. Her own 
declaration was strictly correct, that she "was 
the most retired and retiring person in the whole 
range of public characters", and that it was " the 
great object of her life to pass as undistinguished 
as the nature of her avocations permitted". 

This circumstance may have deprived her me- 
moirs of much that might be exciting ; but it was, 



220 LIFE AND LITERARY REMAINS OF 

nevertheless, the great aim of her life ; and it 
sheds a peculiar halo around her tomb. The re- 
mark of Goldsmith is doubtless true, that "the 
life of an author seldom abounds with adventure ; 
his fame is acquired in solitude; and the histo- 
rian, who only views him at a distance, must be 
content with a dry detail of actions, by which he 
is scarce distinguished from the rest of mankind. 
But we are fond," he adds, " of talking of those 
who have given us pleasure, not that we may 
have anything important to say, but because the 
subject is pleasing." We may go further, how- 
ever, than this. The subject can scarcely fail to 
be profitable, as well as pleasing. The records of 
virtue and piety are seldom unedifying ; but when 
virtue and piety are combined with genius and 
talent, they delight as well as improve. Mrs. 
Hofland, it has been shewn, was an eminent ex- 
ample in this respect. The creations of her mind 
invariably bear the stamp of her benevolent heart. 
The fame of her works, which extends over half 
the globe, is mainly owing, no doubt, to the 
happy combination of literary ability with vir- 
tuous affections. She has, by her writings, given 
pleasure, while she has conveyed instruction to 
tens of thousands ; and she will do so, we may be 
sure, to tens of thousands more : for though dead 
she yet speaketh, and will still speak on, through 



BARBARA HOFLAND. 221 

successive editions of her works, to future gene- 
rations. 

Through the generous exertions of her constant 
and warm-hearted friend, Mr. Roberts, a monu- 
ment has been erected, by subscription, to her 
memory, at Richmond church. It is a marble 
tablet, surmounted by a basso-relievo, consisting 
of a female figure weeping over a draperied urn. 
This is by no means an appropriate, because it is 
not a Christian, emblem. Urns belong to Pagan 
rites; and it is only that cheerless system, not 
ours, which involves any necessity for goddesses 
or graces, to weep over the ashes of the departed. 

Sculptors are too generally at fault in their 
designs for Christian monuments. "For more 
than a century," observes Mr. Markland, in his 
Remarks on Sepulchral Memorials, " mural monu- 
ments with cherubs, skulls, lamps, and twisted 
columns, with little variety, were permitted to 
deform our churches. In later days we have had 
the urn and the sarcophagus— strange ornaments 
for a Christian Temple ! or a figure veiled with 
drapery sitting under a willow, bending over a 
tomb ; or a boy leaning upon an inverted torch ! 
These designs have become wearisome and unin- 
teresting from repetition ; and unless they proceed 
from the chisel of a master cannot but be wholly 
disregarded." 



222 LIFE AND LITERARY REMAINS OF 

One cannot but regret that the monument to 
Mrs. Holland should fall within this unsatisfactory 
category. Sound principles of art, and a correct 
taste, would have suggested that its form and 
style should be appropriate to the Christian pro- 
fession and character of her whose memory it was 
raised to perpetuate. Of her worthiness to be 
made the subject of such a posthumous honour, 
no doubt can be entertained, if distinguished 
talents and a blameless, useful life, furnish any 
title to such a tribute ; yet her natural disposition 
led her to shun notoriety, and we have seen that 
some of the most endearing features of her cha- 
racter were those which exercise their happy in- 
fluence within the quiet sphere of home. 

The monument bears the following inscription : 

THIS TABLET 

IS ERECTED BY A FEW ATTACHED FRIENDS 

TO THE MEMORY OF 

Barbara f^oflanti, 

RELICT OF THOMAS CHRISTOPHER HOFLAND, ARTIST, 

AUTHORESS OF ' THE SON OF A GENIUS', 

ETC., ETC., 

she endeavoured with christian humility 

to recommend by her example 

the lessons incilcated by her writings. 

born at sheffield, a. d. 1770: 
died at Richmond, nov. 9, 1844. 



BARBARA HOFLAND. 223 

The remains of many worthies are scattered 
around her ; not the least of whom, assuredly, is 
Thomson, the poet of the Seasons, who was buried 
in the Church, without an inscription at the time, 
though a brass tablet has since been placed on the 
wall adjoining, as well as a monument erected to 
his memory in Westminster Abbey. It is, of 
course, well known, that it is to Richmond that 
Collins refers, in his immortal Ode on the death 
of Thomson: — 

" In yonder grave a Druid lies, 

Where slowly winds the stealing wave, 
The year's best sweets shall duteous rise, 
To deck the poet's sylvan grave ! 

***** 

" Long, long thy stone, and pointed clay, 
Shall melt the musing Briton's eyes ! 
! vales, and wild woods, shall he say, 
In yonder grave a Druid lies ! " 

It may not, perhaps, be said so emphatically, 
that her "stone and pointed clay'" shall long "melt 
the musing Briton's eyes": — we may not presume 
to claim for her a popularity so vehement as that. 
But there is a poet's line which we may venture 
to appropriate. It is said by Lord Lyttleton, 
speaking of Thomson, that his works contained — 

"No line which, dying, he could wish to blot." 



224 LIFE, ETC. OF BARBARA HOFLAND. 

One must make due allowance for the " poetic 
licence'". But certainly, whatever force it has, as 
referring to James Thomson, will apply it with 
equal emphasis to our authoress. 

Happy indeed will it be if her example is fol- 
lowed by those who come after her, — if private 
life is adorned by the same mild and lovely vir- 
tues, and the means of usefulness possessed by 
those who are the intellectual instructors of man- 
kind, are always devoted to the same noble pur- 
poses, and directed by the same pure principles, 
which influenced the life, and guided the pen of 
Barbara Hofland. 



finis. 



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QNE HOME IN ALL LANDS; a Farewell Sermon, 
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TLLUSTEATIONS OF THE DOCTEINE AND DISCI- 

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XJISTOEY AND ANTIQUITIES OF MELBOUEN 

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pSALMS AND HYMNS. Selected and adapted to the 

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W. J. C1EAYER, PICCADILLY. 11 

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THE DOCTRINE OF THE SACRAMENTS AS 

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12 



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AN EASY CATECHISM ON THE APOSTLES' 

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TABLE OF PSALMS AND HYMNS. 

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1. The Evils of Prejudice. 

2. How to Hear Sermons. 

3. The Partition Wall. 

4. True Trust. 

5. Inattention in Prayer. 

6. Lord's Prayer. — No. 1. 

7. Self-Justification. 

8. Love One Another. 

9. The Necessity of Communion. 

10. The Acceptable Offerer. 

11. Lord's Prayer. — No. 2. 

12. Christ's Presence in Ordi- 

nances. 

13. EachOne his Brother's Keeper. 

14. Reverence to Christ. 

15. Love "Works Patience. 

16. Lord's Prayer.— No. 3. 



17. Unpractical Faith. 

18. Christian Stewardship. 

19. True Causes of Unhappiness. 

20. Lord's Prayer. — No. 4. 

21. Duty of Parents towards their 

Children. 

22. "Water Baptism, and Spirit 

Baptism. 

23. Meekness. 

24. New Year, 1849. 

25. Am I in a State of Grace ? 

26. Let Children be Children. 
27. 

28. 
29. 
30. 



W. J. CLEAVER, PICCADILLY. 13 


FESTIVALS, &c. 

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A Feast of S. Andrew. H Feast of the Conversion of S. 

B Feast of S. Thomas. Paul. 

C Feast of S. Stephen. I Day of the Martyrdom of King 

D Feast of S. John the Evangelist. Charles the First. 

E Feast of the Holy Innocents. K Feast of the Purification of the 

F Feast of the Circumcision. Blessed Virgin. 

G Feast of the Epiphany. 


TRACTS. 

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2. Simplicity in Dress. 8. I Could not Help it. 

3. Too Late. 9. Real Conversion. 

4. Let Nothing be Lost. 10. The Shallow Soil. 

5. Beware of Little Things. 11. The Self-Rejection of Non* 

6. Five Minutes' Advice on Be- communicants. 

nefit Clubs. 12. A few Words to Parents. 


TA1 

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bours. 

2. Story about Charles the First 

and his Children. 

3. Carry and Milly. 

4. The Lizzard Light. 

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Halfpenny. 

Several new ones w 


JES. 

Is. 9d. per packet 

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7. Father Joe. 

8. Susan Palmer. 

9 & 10. Baby's Baptism (4d.) 

11. S. Cuthbert of Lindisfarne. 

12. The Fugitive King. 

13. Ellen Harding. 

ill oe ready shortly. 


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2. Ann Dale, 

3. The Bundle of Sticks. 

4. Cousin Gertrude. 

5. Little Travellers. 

Several oth 


or 10| per dozen. 

6. The Wet Sunday Evening. 

7. A Sunday Talk. 

8. Disasters of a Frolicsome Pig. 

9. The Two Heroes. 
10. The Little Savoyard. 

ers shortly. 



*•& . 73 




THE CHURCH TTARDEE, AND TOWN AND 

X COUNTRY MISCELLANY. Published Monthly, price Twopence. 
As the public will he naturally anxious to know in what degree and 
to what extent the Church Warder will he affected "by the recent change 
of management, we hasten to lay "before them a concise statement of the 
objects we have in view, and the principles which will he enunciated in 
its pages. 

And, first, we intend that our little periodical shall have a definite mis- 
sion. It has long heen our own conviction, that a magazine, especially 
intended for circulation in rural parishes, and carefully prepared with 
such an ohject in view, would he the means, under God, of producing an 
incalculable amount of good. 

Intended for circulation among the less educated of our brethren, the 
style of the several articles will he plain, earnest, and practical. Our pages 
will henceforth contain short tales and allegories ; brief expositions of 
Holy Scripture, selected from the Fathers, or written hy modern divines; 
biographical sketches; extracts from sources old and new; and cha- 
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a Churchman's library, or the school-room. We shall, moreover, direct 
attention to such questions as may seem of general interest to the working 
classes, especially such as bear upon domestic and social life. 

The name will still be retained, and the principles of the Church of 
England honestly and fearlessly maintained. We shall studiously en- 
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best of our power, striving to build our brethren in the faith once for all 
delivered to the Saints. 

Thus much may suffice to show, in some measure, what we purpose 
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us, should they find us worthy of their confidence. We are content to be 
tried by our deeds, rather than our words. Our pages must speak for 
themselves. 



THE BOOK OF COMMON PRAYER and ADMINIS- 

-*- TRATION OF THE SACRAMENTS and other Rites and Cere- 
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pointed as they are to be sung or said in Churches : and the Form and 
Manner of making, ordaining and consecrating of Bishops, Priests, and 
Deacons. In 16mo. richly rubricated and beautifully printed on extra 
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